The Little Secret
by wideopeneyes
Summary: Cid and Gippal share a secret, and Rikku is about to discover it.
1. Chapter 1

"So, does she know yet?"

Gippal winced. "No," he sighed, "she doesn't."

"We'd probably better tell her. Sooner the better. I've put it off too long already. Shoulda brought her up knowing, more like. Woulda been better off establishin' boundaries early, huh?" Cid's mug clanked down noisily on the table, and he hailed a passing server.

"I don't think _anyone_ coulda ever kept that girl from doing anything she'd set her mind to." Gippal downed the last of his beer, handing the empty mug over to the server. "Bring us another round, would ya?"

"If she'd known-"

"It wouldn'ta changed a thing, Cid, and you know it."

"Yeah, well, it don't hurt none to dream." He sighed. "So when're you gonna tell her?"

"_Me_?" Gippal blanched. "When did the 'we – me' switch come about? It's sure as hell not _my_ fault!"

"Well, son," Cid clapped Gippal on the back. "She's _your_ problem now, that's fer _damn_ sure."

"Hey, old man, you can't just stick _me_ with this whole mess. I swear, if you even _try_, I'll tell her whose idea it was in the _first place_." Gippal glared for all he was worth.

Cid relented reluctantly. "Fine, fine, I'll tell her. But ya know she's still gonna come after ya sooner or later."

"Yeah, and she'll probably be after my blood. D'ya think it'll do me any good to tell her it wasn't my idea?" Gippal looked hopeful.

"Naw." Cid kicked back in his chair, propping his boots up on the table to the chagrin of the bar owners – though they would not go so far as to openly rebuke the leader of the Al Bhed. "She'll probably try ta kill ya just for the hell of it."

Gippal smiled wryly. She was _damn_ good with those daggers of hers, a lesson he'd learned in the way of two clean, neat scars down the insides of his forearms from the time he'd snuck up behind her and put his arms around her. She'd cross-drawn her blades from the inside, slicing smoothly through cloth and flesh, and even the resultant quick trip to the infirmary hadn't lost him the scars. He'd never startled her again.

"Maybe you should hide her daggers. I'm getting slow in my old age."

"Shut yer trap, boy. Twenty-one ain't anything close to ancient." Cid scowled.

"So how're we gonna tell her?" Gippal wisely left Cid's comment alone. The old coot was getting a little touchy as he aged.

"I figure we get her _real_ drunk, and then spring it on her while she's all peaceful and happy-like."

Gippal snorted. "She'd probably puke all over you. Stink up your hut."

"So we'll do it at _yer_ place. Djose's got marble floors, right? Easy clean up."

"She'll do irreparable damage. I need a new hole in my temple like I need a new hole in my _head_." Gippal crossed his arms resolutely. He was about to go on her 'justifiable homicide' list, and he wouldn't put it past her to fly over Djose and dump her stock of spare grenades. There was no way she was getting _inside_ it.

Cid waved away Gippal's protest. "We'll think of somethin'," he said, "sooner or later."

- -

In the end, though, it was Rikku herself that forced the issue, although she wasn't aware of it at the time. She'd stopped in Bikanel for a few days, helping with the machina and going on a few fairly lucrative digging excursions, and had been staying with Cid. It had been a while since they'd actually last _talked_, but Cid enjoyed listening to the excited chatter his daughter continually spouted. She reminded him of himself as he'd been in his younger days – stubborn, headstrong, willful, but full of fun and life.

"There's this guy I met in Kilika. He's a Yevonite, but he's really great. I'm thinking of bringing him back to Bikanel sometime." She helped herself to a piece of toast, gobbling down a few bites before continuing. "His name's Keran. I think you'll like him. At least, I hope you'll like him."

"Ya wanna bring this boy to Bikanel? Why?"

Rikku rolled her eyes. "Why do you think? For Spira's sake, Pops, _you're_ the one that keeps talking about how much you want grandchildren."

"Not from an outsider!" Cid hadn't anticipated this – she'd never shown much of an interest in men, and he'd counted on that indifference to keep his secret.

Rikku blinked in surprise at Cid's outburst. "What is your _problem_? I thought you'd be thrilled at the prospect of me getting married and possibly popping out a few kids."

"Ya can't marry him."

"Pops, I'm nearly twenty. I can do whatever I want."

"It's not that." Cid sighed. "It's not that ya can't get married, it's that _ya can't get married_."

"Are you going senile? Oh, god, this is it. You've finally lost it. I'm going to have to put you in a home. Everyone's gonna think crazy runs in my family!"

"Shut it, girl. I'm tryin' to tell ya somethin' important here!" Cid paced the room, working up the courage to tell his one and only daughter that he'd ruined her life.

"So tell me already! And would you stop pacing? You're kinda creeping me out, Pops."

"It ain't the easiest thing in the world ta say, kid." He turned, jaw set stubbornly. "I'll just come out and say it. Ya can't get married because yer _already_ married. Ta Gippal."

There was a shocked silence. Slowly, Rikku's face drained of color. Her mouth opened and closed, as though she were trying to speak, but couldn't find the words. Then, finally, she regained her voice.

"_What_?!"


	2. Chapter 2

"I can't be married. I don't remember getting married! It doesn't count if you don't remember it. Right?" Rikku's voice was tinged with hysteria and Cid was a little afraid she might actually pass out. He pushed her back into a chair, shoving her head forward between her knees.

"_Breathe_, girl," he said, "yer gonna hyperventilate like that."

"That," she gasped, "is the _least_ of my problems!"

"Aw, hell. Yer makin' too much outta this. Ya always did have a flair for the dramatic."

"Dramatic!" She sat up, forcing Cid's hands away. "You tell me I'm _married_ to that…that arrogant, self-absorbed egomaniac, and you call me _dramatic_ when I'm a little _shocked_?" Her face was flushed with anger. "This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me," she wailed. "How can I be _married_? It's not _fair_!"

"_Life_'_s_ not fair, kid, deal with it." He took a seat across from her, offering her a glass of water.

"I'm _waiting_."

Cid didn't like the way her fingers kept making subtle moves towards the dagger at her right hip.

"It was yer mother's idea," he said quickly. A muscle twitched in her cheek, and her fingers clenched.

"Mama died when I was three, Pops," she said patiently.

Cid rubbed the muscles at the nape of his neck, trying to decide where to begin.

"It took…days fer her ta die," he said. "She was in a lotta pain. Nothin' I could do fer her. Never felt so helpless in all my life." He loosened his collar a little, hoping to accommodate the lump growing in his throat. "Yer ma and Gippal's were friends way back. They always talked about their kids getting' hitched someday. They hoped…yer ma hoped you and Gippal woulda fell in love on yer own eventually, but when we knew…when we knew that yer ma wasn't gonna make it…" He sighed, splaying out his fingers entreatingly. "I woulda done _anything_ to help her pass over happy, kid."

Her lips pursed thoughtfully. "So if Gippal had been a girl, _Brother _would've been your sacrificial lamb?"

"Yeah," he said, "that's about the size of it."

"You are _such_ a bastard." She stood, pushing back from the table. "God, I _hate_ this family."

She stalked angrily towards the entrance to the small hut, shoving aside the cloth covers. Cid was pretty sure that if he'd had a front door, she would've slammed it behind her.

But then, he couldn't really blame her.

- -

"What the hell do you think you're doing, kid?" Gippal dropped onto the barstool beside her, ignoring her irritated glare.

"I'm getting a haircut," she said sarcastically, tossing back the liquor in her glass. She slid it across to the bartender, who, obligingly, refilled it. "What does it _look_ like I'm doing?" She downed her second glass, grimacing.

"It _looks_ like you're making a hell of a mistake. Have you ever had that much alcohol before?"

"Once." She winced. "Not a good night. _Or_ a good morning."

"And you're in such a hurry for a repeat performance. Smart, kid." He grabbed the shot glass as the bartender slid it back towards them, slugging the liquor down himself. "No more for _her_, Mal. _I'll_ take another, though."

"Just who do you think you _are_?"

"Your _husband_." He downed his second glass. "You're underage. That makes _me_ your legal guardian, until such a time as your reach your majority."

"You _knew_."

"Yeah, I knew."

"This is _your_ fault!"

"I was _four_." He slammed a fist on the countertop. "I barely even remember it. How the hell is it _my_ fault?"

"I don't remember it." She hiccoughed, surprised when tears sprang to her eyes. She wiped them away, horrified. "_I_ _don't remember_." She hiccoughed again. "This is a _nightmare_."

"It's not so bad," he said. "I know tons of girls that would _kill_ to be married to me."

"Not me." She was hunched over the counter, head in hands. "_That_ ship has sailed."

He patted her back awkwardly. "Look at the bright side."

"There's a bright side?"

"_Funny_." He tossed a handful of salted peanuts into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "You coulda done worse, you know. I'm well-off, good-looking, smart…just about everything a girl could want in a guy."

"So find another girl. We'll get an annulment."

"Can't get an annulment if you've already had a wedding night."

She blushed to the roots of her hair. "_That_ was a mistake. It was a long time ago. I didn't know we were…_married_."

"_I_ did. I almost told you, then. But then you found out I was leaving for the Crimson Squad, and you wouldn't give me the time of day."

"I'll divorce you, then." She didn't like talking about their past. She'd never forgiven him for leaving. She didn't think she ever would.

"We don't divorce."

She knew he was talking about the Al Bhed. Marriage was a serious undertaking, a permanent, unbreakable bond. No Al Bhed had ever divorced their spouse. It was forbidden. Impossible.

"I'll convert."

"Yevon wouldn't have you." He sighed. "You're stuck with me, kid. _We're_ stuck with _each other_."

"Like _hell_ we are." Disgusted, she shoved her chair back, tossing a handful of gil on the bar. "I didn't _ask_ for this. I'll be damned if I'm just gonna let everyone else decide my _life_ for me."

"Look, would you just _wait_ a minute?" He settled his own tab and followed her out of the bar.

"Why should I? You only _lied_ to me my entire _life_."

"I didn't lie. Exactly. We just…decided we should wait awhile to bring you up to speed." He fell into step beside her, walking down the High Road towards Luca. "Where are we going, anyhow?"

"_I_ am going to Luca. Fortunately, there _are_ a few bars that will serve me alcohol regardless of whether or not _you _have a problem with it. Just in case you managed to miss it, I'm _kind of_ a heroine." She crossed her arms, maintaining a space between them large enough to ride a chocobo through.

"Yeah, you're aheroine who _happens_ to be completely dependent upon the wishes of her _husband_. You've got nearly a year and a half until you're twenty-one, honey, do you _really_ wanna piss me off _now_?"

"Take a long walk off a short pier," she hissed. Her dramatic statement was ruined when she stumbled over a rock and pitched head first onto the rocky dirt road.

"Can't hold your liquor as it is, and you think you need _more_?" He offered her his hand, which she ignored, scrambling up on her own and brushing the dust off her skirt. "Why can't you just accept my help? Would it _kill_ you to give me the benefit of the doubt?"

"So you harass and _threaten_ me, and I'm supposed to just pretend that everything's just _peachy keen_ between us?"

"Look, you're mad, I get that." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "But don't you think-"

"I'm not…I'm not just _mad_." She made an irritated sound, swiping away a couple tears that managed to slip past her defenses. "Maybe _you're_ not mad, maybe _you're_ not shocked or surprised or…or _scared_, but you've had seventeen _years_ to get used to it. You _grew up _knowing all this. _I've _known for _four hours_." She dropped down on a rock, rubbing her hands over her face. "The only reason Pops even _told_ me was because he thought I was gonna get married."

"To _whom_?" It was news to him; when Cid had told him Rikku had gone off in a rage he'd mentioned nothing about what had prompted him to finally disclose the truth to her.

"Some guy." She motioned vaguely.

"_Some guy_? You were thinking of marrying _some guy_?"

"I _wasn't_ gonna marry him." She scowled. "Is it _really_ that important for you to know who he is?"

He sighed. "D'you think we can have a normal conversation for once?" He took a seat on the ground in front of her. "You know," he said quietly, "_once_ you wouldn't have thought being married to me was the end of the world."

"I don't want to talk about _that_," she said. "It's past. Over. I just want to forget it ever happened."

"We're not kids anymore," he replied. "We were young, we were stupid, we weren't ready for a relationship. We definitely weren't ready for marriage, and yeah, it kind of sucks that we don't get a choice anymore, that we can't just decide to be together because we _want_ to be. But that doesn't mean we're destined to hate each other and be bitter and unhappy for the rest of our lives. We can make the best of it."

"I don't _want_ to _make the best of it_." She stood, turning away from him. "Don't you understand even a _little_? I don't _want_ to spend my life living with the consequences of _other people's actions_!"

He knew what she meant, what she was talking about, but it _still_ didn't make much sense to him. He was in the _same_ position she was, and _he _wasn't bitching and moaning about the loss of his freedom, his rights. He'd accepted it, moved on, and was working towards creating a happy life for himself. And he'd share it with her if she'd just _shut up and let him_.

"Look, everyone's gotta do things they don't wanna do sometimes. It's part of life." He moved towards her a little, setting his hands on her shoulders in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. She shrugged them off, rounding on him.

"See, _that _is where you're wrong. _You_ can go do whatever you want to. _I_ intend to go back to Luca and have the time of my life. I'm young, I'm reasonably attractive…hell, I'm even willing to bet that Keran won't mind so much that I've got a husband. Maybe I'll get lucky! Maybe Yevonites don't consider Al Bhed rituals binding. I could end up with a husband I actually _want_ someday." She stalked away from him, further down the dirt path towards Luca. He knew she was lashing out in anger, but it still stung. He didn't even know her well enough anymore to be able to judge whether or not it was an empty threat.

"Fine!" he spat angrily. "Go and shack up with your little fuck-buddy! See if I care!"

"I _will_," she shouted back towards him.

He threw his hands in the air, growling his frustration. There was just no _reasoning_ with her when she was in a temper. Irritated, he watched her walk out of sight, and then went back the way they'd come towards Rin's to retrieve his hover.

For a while he considered waiting out her rage, but it occurred to him that in her present state of mind, and with her natural inclination towards impulsiveness, she was highly likely to do something she might regret later on, and it was definitely his responsibility to see that she didn't get herself hurt. And he had to admit to himself that the idea of outing her as a _married woman_ to all of Luca wasn't exactly _unappealing_.

Only she wasn't _in_ Luca. He'd never considered the possibility that he wouldn't find her, but he'd searched every bar in the damn _city_ with no success, and he had absolutely no idea where she'd be. And he had no idea how volatile she'd be _when_ he finally managed to locate her. He just didn't know how to handle her anymore. He'd known four years ago. Everything had been so much _simpler_ then. Now he didn't know her, he had no idea what would make her happy, what could _possibly_ return them to the happy couple they'd been in their mid-teens.

And he was pretty much in desperate need of advice.

- -

Yuna, Gippal decided, was a better listener than her younger cousin. She sat very still and listened to his whole story without interrupting, nodding now and again to indicate she was actually listening.

It had been quite late when he'd arrived on Besaid, but she'd calmly followed him out to the ever-burning bonfire in the center of the village, feeding the flames every now and again with a couple of sticks as the whole story came pouring out of him.

"I see," she said slowly, when he'd finished. "Well, it sounds to me like you're screwed."

He blinked. "Huh?"

"You're screwed," she repeated calmly. "You _lied_ to her."

"I _didn't_ lie. Exactly." He was getting damn sick and tired of repeating himself and explaining himself all the time. He ran a whole faction! He didn't have to _explain_ himself to anyone!

"A lie by omission is still a lie."

He didn't like that much. Somehow he'd been operating under the expectation that Yuna could solve his problem, wrap the answer up in a pretty little bow for him, and he could go on his merry way with Rikku and be happy and content for the rest of his life. Yuna had the answers. She _always_ had the answers.

"Look, it's a complicated situation." He shoved his fingers through his hair.

"It's not that complicated. Granted most of it isn't your fault, but you're _still_ involved. You _still_ lied to her for her entire life."

Rikku had said something similar.

"Maybe it's not the ideal situation, but _everyone's_ gotta sacrifice sometimes," he began.

"Good god, you didn't _tell_ her that, did you?" She looked downright horrified. His eyebrows rose.

"Uh, well…sort of. What was I supposed to tell her?"

"_Anything_ but that!" She made an irritated sound in the back of her throat. "Look, you and Cid eventually robbed her of everything she's ever wanted. She's never going to get a romantic courtship, a fairy-tale wedding, a happily-ever-after. Cid took her right to choose, and _you_ took her right to know the truth."

"He thought it was best for her not to know for a while." Somehow now the excuse seemed a little too wishy-washy. It wasn't that she wasn't ready; it was that they didn't want to deal with her anger, her hurt.

"And _then_ you tell her _she's_ got to sacrifice because someone else made a stupid decision."

Well, when she put it that way it sounded a little insensitive.

"It's not all _that_ big of a deal. Everyone thought we'd get married eventually anyway." He knew he was sulking a little. He wasn't accustomed to being chastised.

"It is a _very_ big deal. You've lived with it all your life; _she's_ lived with it for a few hours. She's losing something of herself to you, something she can never get back, something that was hers to give but was _taken_ from her." She sounded disappointed, upset. Probably she was indignant over the way her cousin had been cheated.

Okay, so he'd been a jerk. A _big_ jerk. Maybe it was because he hadn't thought she'd be so angry, he'd thought she'd just…just be happy to be with him or something. He'd never _once_ thought he couldn't make her happy, but with the way he'd made an ass of himself, she might not even give him a chance to try.

"Did you even tell her you _love_ her?"

He averted his eyes, unable to take Yuna's piercing gaze.

"_Do_ you love her?"

"Of course I do!" he snapped. "D'you think I woulda come her if I didn't? If I didn't care about her, why would I be here getting my ass handed to me? I want to make things _right_."

"Easier said than done," Yuna sighed. "You made the absolute _worst_ of an already bad situation."

"I'm beginning to realize that," he said dryly. "So can you help me? Like it or not, she's married to me, you know. If she'd just _let_ me, I could make her happy. I'd love her so much she'd never regret being married to me."

"It could be a long time before she stops being angry with you."

"I can wait. I've waited nearly seventeen years already." He stood, helping her to her feet carefully.

"You're going to have to be patient with her. She's certainly entitled to a tantrum or two what with how she'd been treated. Let her scream and shout if she wants to. And, Gippal, for Spira's sake, _tell her you love her_."

"I would," he said, "only she _said_ she was going to Luca, and she's not there anymore. I looked for her _everywhere_. I don't even know where to start looking."

"Try my living room," she quipped. "She never went to Luca. She's been here for hours. She cried herself hoarse, called you several names that I am loathe to repeat, cried some more, and finally fell asleep on my couch."

"So you _knew_ all this even before I told you."

"Pretty much. I felt you deserved to be at _least_ as miserable as you've made my _cousin_." Her pointed glare made him flush.

"Vindictiveness in a former summoner," he said thoughtfully. "Huh. _That_ was unexpected."

She ignored him. "I'll let you have her on one condition."

"She's _my_ wife."

"She's _my_ cousin. Also I've got this big summoner's staff that is just _wonderful_

for beating stubborn men over the head with."

"Point taken. What's the condition?" He grimaced.

"Take good care of her. Don't make her cry anymore. And _apologize_. She trusted you and you blew it."

"That's _three_ conditions."

"Suck it up. Do you promise?" She put her hands on her hips, blocking the entryway to her hut.

"Yeah, I promise."

She pushed aside the flap, and he followed her inside. It was dark, but he could see her curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her. Carefully he rolled her into his arms, wrapped tightly in the blanket. He brushed his fingers over her cheeks, feeling the gritty salt her tears had left. Guilt swamped him.

"Need some sleep powder for the ride? She's not going to be too happy if she wakes up."

He was surprised she was offering. "No, I don't think so. She's a pretty sound sleeper. Thanks, though."

She shrugged. "Well, good night, then. I won't keep you." She disappeared into the back room where he assumed Tidus was asleep, and he silently left the hut.

It was going to be a rather long journey back to Djose. But at the very least, he'd gotten what he'd come for.


	3. Chapter 3

Light filtered into the room from the wrong angle. The only window in Yuna's living room was on the right hand side, just above the couch, but _this_ light poured in from across the room. Rikku blinked blearily, raising her head a little from where it rested on something hard. Had she fallen off the couch again? No, it didn't seem like it – she wasn't lying on the hard ground, she was lying on a soft bed. A bed? There wasn't a bed in Yuna's living room.

Her head throbbed. That liquor had _definitely_ not been a good idea. She always regretted those things in the cold, harsh light of morning. Groggily she surveyed her surroundings. Stone walls, unadorned by pictures or wall-hangings of any sort. Sparse furniture – a wooden chest of drawers, an uncomfortable-looking chair, and a large, varnished armoire across the room. A small purple rug lay on the tile floor, the only real spot of color in the otherwise boring room.

She didn't recognize it at all. Normally she might have been a little worried by that, but with her pounding headache she couldn't be bothered to care about much. She turned a little, lifting the covers. No clothes. How odd. She was sure she'd borrowed one of Yuna's nightgowns.

The most befuddling thing, though, was the muscular, decidedly masculine arm draped over her pillow. She poked it with one finger, testing the firmness. Ah, so _that_ was the hard thing she'd been laying on.

"Quit it, kid. I'm tryin' to sleep over here."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. _Gippal_? What was _he_ doing in her bed?

And just like that, everything clicked together. Stone walls. Not her bed, not Yuna's house. _Djose_. _Gippal_. _Married_.

Her stomach rolled violently.

"Oh, god, I'm gonna _hurl_."

- -

She'd made it to the bathroom, at least. Gippal could content himself with that. Still, he _really_ didn't like listening to the undeniable sounds of retching within the bathroom, especially since she'd slammed the door closed and locked him out. He wondered if it would be insensitive of him to ask if she'd made it to the toilet. He'd left his _favorite_ pair of boxers in there, and he wouldn't put it past a pissed-off Rikku to upchuck all over them if she thought it might irritate him.

"I _told_ you not to drink so much."

"Shut _up_, Gippal!"

More retching. Maybe it had been a bad idea to remind her of that. He'd had a few hangovers himself in his time…a couple bad enough to keep him off of alcohol entirely for a few months. To this day, he couldn't even _look_ at a bottle of tequila without getting nauseous.

Sighing, he put on some pants and pulled the shades on the windows down. Then he went and got a glass of water and a couple of aspirin.

All seemed to be silent in the bathroom when he returned, so he tested the doorknob. Still locked.

"There's an extra toothbrush under the sink," he called. He heard her opening the cabinets, and then there was the sound of running water. He fished the nightgown she'd been wearing the night before out of his clothes-hamper. "Need something to wear?"

The door opened a crack. She snatched the item from his fingers, and then promptly snapped the door shut. He rolled his eyes.

A minute later, she opened the door again, the nightgown covering her neck-to knees. She stopped when she caught sight of him, slowly going green.

"Oh, _god._" She turned, heading back towards the toilet, falling to her knees and shoving her hair back with shaky fingers.

It irritated him a little to be the apparent cause of her nausea. Normally women drooled over him. He'd never had one vomit at the sight of him. He set the water and aspirin on the counter, gently lifting her hair away from her face, holding it back for her as her stomach heaved rebelliously. Her trembling fingers clutched the porcelain toilet bowl. She looked miserable, tears streaking her cheeks, sweat coating the back of her neck.

He'd promised Yuna he wouldn't make her cry. He hoped this didn't count. He rubbed her back soothingly, waiting for her sickness to pass. Finally her unsteady fingers reached for the toilet handle, and she sank back. He lifted her to her feet, handing her the toothbrush again. She scrubbed her mouth viciously for a few minutes, then swallowed the aspirin. He urged her towards the bathroom door, back into the darkened bedroom, and towards the bed.

"Go on. Back to bed."

She hesitated briefly.

"I mean it. _Now_. I'll put you there myself if you don't get in." He pushed her forward with a hand on the small of her back. She stumbled forward a few paces towards the bed, then lifted the comforter and slipped in, sliding across the bed to the opposite side of it, rolling so she faced the wall. She drew her legs up, curling into a little ball.

He retrieved a washcloth from the closet in the bathroom, soaking it with cold water and then wringing it out. Then he crawled across the bed towards her, laying it across her forehead. Her fingers came up to hold it in place, and she turned just a little towards him.

"Thanks." Her voice was a little hoarse, and he could tell she didn't _want_ to thank him for _anything_, but he'd done something nice and she appreciated it.

"How do you feel?" He rubbed soothing little circles over her back. Once she'd liked this, once she'd told him she liked falling asleep with him beside her, touching her, holding her.

"_Horrible_." There was a wealth of emotion in that one word.

"You look it."

She thrust a hand behind her, whacking his shoulder in irritation. He laughed a little, reclining back against the pillows, still rubbing her back. He _could_ lecture her about the importance of thinking ahead, of considering the consequences of one's actions, but he was pretty sure she'd learned her lesson this time and she wouldn't welcome the rebuke. He was probably better off sticking with taking care of her. If nothing else, it _could_ guilt her into being civil to him. Rikku remembered things like that and paid them back in kind.

But, _damn_, that girl could hold a grudge.

Once, they'd been best friends, lovers, and – even if she hadn't known it – husband and wife. And, yeah, he'd kind of ruined it by joining the Crimson Squad, but if she'd loved him – _really_ loved him – she'd have understood. Or at least he'd thought she would. Instead she'd thrown several things at his head, told him he was the biggest idiot it had ever been her misfortune to meet, and dropped him like he'd been a hot rock. It still hurt, because he'd loved her _so much_. He still did, despite her generally frosty attitude towards him, because he remembered the way they'd been, the way _she'd_ been years ago when they'd both been so young and in love.

He sighed, easing a little closer.

"What happened to us, honey?"

She stiffened. He expected a tersely delivered shutdown, an abrupt end to a conversation they'd never really had.

"You lied to me." He could hear the anger, the sorrow in her voice.

"Yeah, I know, and I'm sorry about it." He slid his fingers into her hair. She'd always liked that back in the old days. "But I meant back _then_."

"You _lied_ to me," she reiterated, irritated that he just wasn't getting the picture.

"I didn't." Unless you couldn't not telling her they were married, but she hadn't known that then.

"You didn't tell me you enlisted in the Crimson Squad. I had to find out from _Nhadala_."

So _that_ was who'd told her! "I was _going_ to tell you. There just never seemed to be a good time."

"_When_, Gippal?" She scoffed sarcastically. "Right before you hopped on a ship to Bevelle?"

He _had_ been kind of avoiding telling her. He'd known she wouldn't like it. He'd known she'd be mad at him. He hadn't expected her to just _dump_ him like that, though.

"I didn't think you'd be _that_ mad about it." His hands rubbed the tension from her shoulders.

"You could've _died_." She could feel tears stinging her eyes.

"But I _didn't_."

"But you _could have_."

It was a stupid argument, he thought. He could get stepped on by a shoopuf tomorrow – everyone had to die _sometime._ "You could've died on Yuna's pilgrimage," he pointed out.

"Yes, I could have. But I wouldn't have left you in Bikanel waiting for news. I wouldn't have gone, Gippal, if we'd been together."

He heard her teeth click together as she snapped her jaw shut. She'd said too much, told him far more than she'd ever meant to.

"I waited for news anyway," he said. "I'm always waiting, I've always _been_ waiting. I never wanted to break up. I thought we'd be together forever."

So had she. But he'd _lied_. _Everything_ about their relationship had been only a lie based on another lie. Had he even really _loved_ her, or had his feelings been born from the idea that he was _supposed_ to love her? She'd never be sure. She couldn't trust him – and she'd just learned it all over again.

"I don't…" Hr breath caught a little, and she struggled to speak around the lump of emotion in her throat. "I don't want to talk about it."

"We've gotta talk about it sometime."

"No. Please. Just…just let it rest." She didn't want to think about that time. It _hurt_ too much. The memories were painful. His betrayal had cut so deeply that she'd cried for days. She'd been terrified for him, furious that he hadn't told her, hadn't _asked_ her if she'd be okay without him. She'd _needed_ him with her, there in Bikanel, safe, happy, beside her forever. She didn't like needing people, being dependant upon someone else for happiness. She'd _needed_ Gippal and he'd hurt her, and she was determined to never _need_ anyone ever again.

"Rikku…"

"Please. I'm very tired." She moved a little away from him, hoping he'd take the hint and drop it. He sighed.

"All right, kid."

She expected him to leave. She knew his faction wouldn't run itself. But he didn't. He stayed there, his hand tracing little patterns on her back, until she fell asleep.

-

He watched her sleep for a long time. So many things about her were different now. She even slept differently. Years ago she would've been draped over him, curled up against him comfortably, or maybe spread out across the bed, taking up as much space as was possible. Now she just curled into a tight, unmoving little ball.

He didn't recognize the person she'd become. She certainly wasn't the same bright, cheerful carefree girl she had been. She'd grown up a little, matured, but the woman she'd become bore little resemblance to his flighty girlfriend, his passionate lover. Now she was too afraid of being hurt to get involved, and that boded ill for both of them. Even if, by some miracle, she still loved him, it was going to take time to draw her out of her carefully crafted shell.

Briefly he wondered if she was really in love with the man she'd spoken to him of the day before. Was everything hopeless after all? Would she give him a chance to show her that he would be a good husband, a trustworthy husband to her? Or had she already decided that she didn't owe him anything except scorn?

She'd loved him once, he was sure of it now. Could he rekindle it, find a way to make their wilted romance thrive again? He didn't know. He wasn't used to being uncertain.

They were married, but he couldn't make her stay, he couldn't force her to love him. But maybe he could get to her to fall in love with him again, to take a chance on him and on their relationship. They'd been so _happy_, once. He wanted that again. He wanted Rikku in his bed, in his home, in his _life_.

Now if only he could get _her_ to want that, too.


	4. Chapter 4

He checked on her again around lunchtime, when all of his employees were on break. She was still curled up in a little ball at the far edge of the bed. Slowly he sank down beside her, his fingers moving caressingly over her back.

"Hey. Rikku."

"Hmm." It was just a little sound, barely more than a whisper.

"Want something to eat?"

She moved a bit, stretching out, a little sound of distaste issuing forth.

"I'll take that as a no, then." He readjusted the covers, gently detangling them from around her legs. He tucked them in around her securely. "You need anything? Water? Aspirin?"

"Water. Please." Her voice was a little hoarse, a little dry.

He brought her a cup, helping her sit up enough to drink from it. Her fingers were trembling so badly that he had to hold the cup for fear she'd spill it all over herself.

"Feeling any better?" He brushed her bangs away from her face. She shook her head. "Poor kid," he said, brushing his lips against her forehead. "Go back to sleep, honey. I'll be back up in a little while when I close up for the day, okay?" And he went back to rubbing her back in those slow, rhythmic circles he knew she liked.

She almost felt guilty for taking advantage of his generosity, for letting him take care of her. They were married; he probably felt he was _supposed_ to do things like this. But she didn't _want_ to be married, didn't _want_ him to be acting like they were some sort of happy little family.

But she was miserable, and his hands were so warm and soothing that she couldn't bring herself to ask him to stop. It reminded her of things she wanted to forget, things that she knew she would _never_ forget. Those hot, lazy nights when they'd been little more than children playing at love. Those tender kisses they'd share in the early hours of the morning as they crept quiet halls of Home to return her to her room unnoticed. Warm summer days spent at the Oasis, cool summer nights spent on the banks beneath the starry sky.

She'd spent so much time being angry with him, being terrified for him, that she'd never really gotten to grieve for the end of their relationship. It had been too sudden, too unexpected for it to really _feel _over. But even if they _were_ married, she wasn't his _wife_, really.

And maybe it hurt a little more than she liked to admit. So she closed her eyes tightly, and cried a little for those happy days that she'd never see again but would spent her life reliving.

-

He came to bed late because he didn't want to wake her up again. Probably she still wasn't feeling well. She'd curled up even tighter when he'd woken her briefly to ask if she wanted any dinner, and he hadn't wanted to make a pest of himself by forcing the issue. She'd had nothing all day but some aspirin and the odd glass of water, and it worried him a little, but probably she just wasn't feeling well and her appetite would return when she got better. He wished she would let him do more for her – she was his _wife_, he was _supposed_ to take care of her. But he knew she would never see it that way.

He undressed quietly in the darkness, sliding slowly into bed beside her. His weight depressed the bed, and she slid towards him a little, making a soft, confused little sound. He'd accidentally woken her anyway.

"Sorry, it's just me. I didn't mean to wake you."

"S'ok." Her voice was soft, sleepy. He remembered that sexy, half-asleep voice well. There had been a lot of late nights, a lot of early mornings.

"Need anything? Food? Water?" He shifted a little closer, sliding his arm under her pillow surreptitiously. Maybe she wouldn't notice and she'd fall asleep in his arms just like she used to.

"No…thanks." He heard her sigh, felt her stretch out a little onto her stomach. In the darkness she couldn't tell how close they were, didn't know he could feel her warm breath on his shoulder. He turned a little onto his side, his free hand finding her back. She made a soft, satisfied little sound. "You always do this."

"You always like it," he countered.

"Mama used to rub my back to put me to sleep before she died." He heard her yawn. "I don't really remember her. But I remember that. And she used to sing to me." She laughed a little. "She had a horrible singing voice, but I loved it. I loved it when she'd rub my back and sing to me."

"I took over for her," he said. "She made me promise."

"You don't sing to me."

"My voice is even worse than hers was."

"I like your voice." She shifted a little towards him. "What did she make you promise? You were just a kid."

"She made me promise to look out for you. She said you were a crybaby and I'd have to teach you to be strong." He grinned, knowing she wouldn't like that.

"_Mama_ said that?"

"Yeah, she was a little mad at the time." Actually, she'd been _furious_. On her deathbed and she'd _still _torn Cid a new one.

"What was she mad at?"

"Your old man. She thought he was stupid going out and marrying a couple of kids just because he thought it would make her happy." He sighed. "But she _was_ happy, you know? Happy that he loved her so much, I think. And she knew I'd take care of you when we grew up."

"I don't _need_ anyone to take care of me." He could hear the irritation in her voice.

"Sometimes you do, honey." His leg brushed hers, but she didn't move away. "Not always…but sometimes."

She didn't argue – she merely turned onto her side, facing away from him.

"Gippal…" He heard the little catch in her voice. "I don't _want_ to be married."

"I know, honey."

"I'm going to Kilika in the morning."

He sighed. "I know that, too."

She fell silent. He knew he was going to have to let her go – reasoning had never worked with Rikku. She wouldn't see the point in arguing over something she'd already reached a decision on. She'd decided she wouldn't stay with him and that was that.

He moved closer – she hadn't noticed his arm, which was now situated perfectly beneath her neck, so when he moved, she sort of rolled against him, her head pillowed against her shoulder. His other arm slid over her hip, holding her in place.

"Gippal…" She made to move away, but his fingers tightened on her hip.

"Just give me this." His face turned into the tangle of her hair, breathing in her scent. "Just this, just for tonight." His lips skimmed her cheek. "I missed this. I missed _you_."

Slowly she relaxed back against him. She didn't speak, didn't explain herself at all – just rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. She thought maybe they both needed this night to recover, to heal, to _move on_ finally. She knew it wouldn't change anything. She'd still be leaving. But maybe one night would do them both some good.

-

He woke the next morning to the distinctive sound of a hover approaching the temple. Disoriented, he lifted his head from the pillow, squinting against the morning sun spilling in from across the room.

"Rikku?"

Her gaze flickered his way briefly. She was tightening a length of cord through the loopholes of a pair of his old pants. She was practically drowning in one of his shirts – the collar slipped off her shoulder and she viciously shoved it back up, obviously frustrated.

"I've got a belt in the closet."

"It's still too loose, even at the tightest notch." She knotted the cord at her waist. He knew she'd never intended to ask permission to borrow his clothes – he'd taken her from Besaid without any of her own, and she probably considered it her right to take whatever clothes she needed since he hadn't provided any for her.

"Mind handing me a pair of pants?" He sat up, running his fingers through his mussed hair. She tossed him a pair from across the room, looking out the window.

"I've gotta go."

"Who's outside?" He climbed out of bed, tugging on the pair of pants. She tactfully averted her eyes.

"Keran. I asked him to come get me. He's taking me back to Kilika with him."

A muscle twitched in his jaw. It was too _early _to be warning men off his _wife_.

He approached the window, looking critically at the dark-haired man stepping off the hover. "He know you got a husband?"

"Not yet." She sighed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. She edged toward the door. "I don't wanna keep him waiting. He's doing me a big favor. Goodbye, Gippal." She walked out the door without looking back at him. And he didn't try to stop her. A few moments later she reappeared below, jogging out to meet the man on the hover. He leaned over, brushing a kiss across her cheek. Gippal slammed his fist against the wall, angrier than he could ever remember being.

"It's not goodbye, Cid's girl," he told her as he watched her climb onto the hover behind the man. He started it up and in a few moments they were just a tiny speck in the distance. "It's _not_ going to be goodbye."


	5. Chapter 5

"So, what's with Frowny McPoutypants?" Keran's voice drifted back to her over the dull hum of the engine.

"_Who_?" A nervous little giggle left her throat, and she tightened her arms around his waist just a little.

"The guy who was glaring at us from the window. What was his problem?"

"Oh." Her cheek touched his shoulder. She'd been hoping to avoid this subject…at least until they'd reached Kilika. "That was Gippal, of the Machine Faction."

"_Really_. Gippal, huh?" The name sounded strange on his lips. "I think I've heard of him before."

Of course he had. Everyone in _Spira_ had heard of him. Just as becoming Yuna's guardian had brought Rikku and the others some degree of fame and popularity, Nooj, Baralai and Gippal had not escaped their own slice of notoriety.

"Yeah, sure," she replied noncommittally.

"So what was his deal? He looked kinda pissed."

"He probably was. At me, I mean." She ducked her head down against him. "We had a falling out of sorts."

"Was he the guy you had a thing for from Bikanel?" He didn't sound angry – merely curious.

"Yeah, that was him. Only something's come up, something I didn't know back then." She didn't _want_ to tell Keran. She _liked _him even if she didn't really _love_ him, and she didn't want to hurt him. But it wasn't fair to lead him on.

"Well, _that_ sounds ominous." He sighed. "Might as well just spill it, huh? I'm gonna drag it out of you sooner or later."

"I'm sort of…married to him." She wait for him to do something, say something. She expected at least an angry exclamation of disbelief – at worst he'd probably hang a sharp right, push her off the hover and keep right on going. When he didn't react at all, she hurried on to explain. "My father arranged it just before my mother died. We were both just kids at the time – I don't remember it at all. I didn't know about it at all until just recently."

"How'd you two find out?" His voice was calm, but she knew a calm demeanor could hide a _hell of a lot of crazy_.

"Pops finally told me when he thought I was gonna bring you home to Bikanel to meet him." She grimaced. He laughed a little, startling her.

"How'd he like _that_?" He asked with a chuckle.

"He didn't." She sighed. "Keran, I didn't know, I swear I didn't."

"I believe you," he said. There was a brief pause, then: "What'd _he_ say when he found out?"

"He already knew. He knew the whole time."

Maybe he heard the bitterness in her voice, because he sucked in a deep breath.

"Harsh. That must've hurt."

Only Keran had seen past the anger to the terrible hurt lying heavy beneath it. She blinked away tears. "Yeah. It really did. A lot. I can't even divorce him. The Al Bhed, we…we don't divorce." She took a shuddering breath. "I'm really sorry."

"Not your fault."

"It's not _fair_, though."

"_Life_ isn't fair." He sounded so much like Gippal in that moment that she gritted her teeth in frustration. He continued, unaware of her irritation. "I kind of have a thing for you, but I know you're not interested in me like that. I'll get over it. We'll be…friends."

Her irritation dissolved. She'd forced him into an awkward situation, a torturous game of look-but-don't-touch. She felt guilty. "I could try. Just because I'm not interested _now_ doesn't mean I _can't_ be."

"Liar," he said gently. "I know I'd just be competing with _him_. You're not over him, even if you wish you were, even if you hate him. You still love him."

"I don't." She scowled. "If I loved him, I would've stayed in Djose."

"Love doesn't die just because you're _mad_ at someone." He spoke with the wisdom of someone who'd been in the situation before, and she resented the implication that she wasn't the mistress of her own emotions.

"I _don't _love him," she insisted.

He shrugged. "Regardless, you don't love _me_ either."

"No," she said slowly, softly. "I don't. I'm sorry." There were worse men she could choose. Keran was dependable, loyal, handsome…really, everything any girl could want in a guy. But she didn't love him, and she probably never would.

"If I thought for one second that you loved me, even a husband wouldn't keep me away. So don't be sorry – you're probably saving me from an untimely demise."

"Huh?" She lifted her head from his shoulder, wrinkling up her nose in confusion.

"Didn't you _see_ the way he looked at us? He probably thinks I'm doing you or something. He doesn't look like a guy I'd relish meeting in a dark alley. And there are a lot of dark alleys in Kilika."

"Aim for his bad side." She grinned. "He's got lousy depth-perception."

- -

Gippal managed to stay away from Kilika for exactly four days. In that time he had had far too much time to read all sorts of frightening, infuriating possibilities into the little kiss the man called Keran had given Rikku.

He was overcome with the urge to make it absolutely, positively _crystal goddamn clear_ to the man that Rikku was off limits, and Gippal would find a way to make him pay if he so much as _thought_ about putting his hands on his _wife_. It mattered not even a little that Keran might not even _know_ that Rikku was unavailable. It was just infuriating to imagine that somewhere there might be a man trying to pick up _his_ _wife_. Even more aggravating was the thought that maybe Rikku might _allow_ herself to be picked up.

He shifted his thoughts away from Rikku and Keran as he realized that the passersby in Kilika seemed to be giving him wide berth down the narrow walkways. It was only when one woman nearly plunged into the water below rather than pass too close to him that he realized he'd probably been scowling the whole way. He didn't like being angry and irritable. Usually he prided himself on his easygoing nature, his general good humor. Only _Rikku_ had the power to twist him into little knots. He didn't like that he was irrational where she was concerned, that his fixation with her had brought him to Kilika to warn off a man he didn't know and might not recognize - even if he _did_ manage to find him - since he hadn't gotten too great of a look at him. Rikku he could find. He knew her face, he knew her habits. He could pick her out of a crowd in less than three seconds.

He had no idea where to even start looking for Keran.

"You're Gippal…right?" It was an unfamiliar voice.

Gippal turned around, finding the speaker immediately. Keran. Well, how absolutely accommodating.

"Yeah." It was just a confirmation, sharp and harsh.

"Don't think I need to ask why you're here. I was kind of expecting it." Something of a grin lingered around Keran's mouth. Gippal could see why Rikku liked the man. He was handsome, with a pleasant sort of face, the kind one could tell smiled easily and often. He had boyish good looks, shaggy brown hair, intense dark eyes, and was a few inches shorter than Gippal. Still, he didn't look like he worked hard or often. Certainly not at backbreaking labor like most of the Al Bhed were used to. He was a Yevonite, through and through.

"You want me to stay away from Rikku." It wasn't a question. Keran shifted to the side of the narrow walkway, allowing for traffic. Gippal kept a few feet away, regarding Keran curiously.

"Yeah." He didn't feel the need to explain any further. Just so long as Keran got the point.

"I've got no intention of keeping away from her."

Gippal shifted a little, his hand going to the holster at his belt. He knew he couldn't very well shoot the man in the middle of Kilika, and he was pretty sure Keran knew it, too. But he wanted the other man to be a little afraid of him.

Surprisingly, Keran laughed. "No need to be so hostile. I'm not fucking her or anything. She wouldn't have me on a silver platter with an apple in my mouth."

Gippal relaxed just a little. "She's my _wife_."

"Yeah, she mentioned that." Keran stuck his hands in his pockets, regarding Gippal levelly. "If she wanted me, I'd take her in a heartbeat," he said. "But she doesn't. So can you resist the urge to kill me? I _like_ Rikku. I'll watch out for her. She's a good girl, a good _friend_."

Gippal didn't really trust the man, but he had to have a sort of grudging respect for him.

"I can't watch out for her all the time," Gippal said slowly. "And she's got absolutely _no_ common sense. You'll keep her from being picked up?"

Keran shook his head slowly. "I'll keep her out of trouble. But if she _wants_ to be picked up, that's her prerogative."

Gippal shifted uncomfortably. "You're a Yevonite."

"Yeah."

"We're Al Bhed."

"Yeah, it's kind of hard to miss." A sardonic grin twisted up the right corner of Keran's mouth.

"What's Yevon got to say about divorce, or about honoring other ways of life?"

Keran knew what Gippal was asking. "Yevon considers all other ways of life sacrilege, blasphemy. Your marriage would be dishonorable, unsanctioned, unacknowledged." He watched Gippal flinch as the words hit home. "However, _New_ Yevon preaches tolerance and acceptance towards different cultures. I follow the new ways, not the old."

It was a relief. Gippal blew out the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. So she was his for good, if he could find a way to keep her.

"Rikku's _mine_," he said firmly, holding Keran's eyes. "She's _always_ been mine and she always will be. No one takes what belongs to me." He was willing to fight for what was his, just as he had been doing for years.

"I think you gotta work on the way you talk to her," Keran said critically. "You talk like that and she's gonna think you're gonna try to walk all over her. She's not gonna stand for that. She's independent, you know? Wants to make her own way, do her own thing. She's not gonna go with you quietly if you start acting like a caveman around her."

"When has Rikku ever gone _anywhere_ quietly?" Gippal cocked an eyebrow. "The point is that she's my wife. _My_ wife. She might not like it _now_, but she'll get over it."

Keran fought laughter and lost. "Okay, I'm _definitely_ sticking around for this. After everything Rikku's had to say about you, I would love nothing better than to stick around and watch you make an ass of yourself." He clapped Gippal on the back, steering him the opposite direction, towards the bay. "Come on. Least I can do is buy you a beer. It would be inhospitable of me to let you humiliate yourself while sober."

- -

Gippal had no idea why he'd let Keran buy him a beer, much less why he was still seated at the bar with him. He didn't like the man. At least, he didn't _want_ to like the man. That would make trying to intimidate him into keeping his hands off of Rikku a little difficult.

"So, please. Enlighten me as to what your grand plan entails." Keran tapped his fingertips on the counter, waiting for the bartender to refill his mug.

"Plan?" Gippal echoed weakly.

"Yeah, you know. What're you gonna do?" He studied Gippal's blank expression expectantly. "Surely you don't intend to just _glare_ her into submission."

"Nah," Gippal said, taking a long drink. "Wouldn't work. I don't intimidate her."

"So how're you going to get her back?"

"Well…" He hadn't really thought that through very well. Most of his little fantasies had involved warning the male population of Kilika what they could expect if they attempted anything with his wife. "I haven't really thought about it."

Keran choked. "You haven't thought about it!"

"You eat a parrot for lunch or something?" Gippal glared.

"Sorry." He had the grace to look embarrassed. "Look, you could maybe attempt to be _charming_ or something. Failing that, you could try…oh, I don't know, _not_ glaring. It's a little off-putting. You want her to like you, right?"

"She likes me," Gippal assured him. "She just doesn't remember it yet."

"Sure," Keran said doubtfully. "So what're you going to say to her?"

"Dunno." Gippal didn't know if he actually wanted to have a conversation about how he intended to get Rikku with a man who might or might not actually be attempting to get into her pants himself.

"You're not gonna club her over the head and drag her back to Djose, though."

Probably it would be effective, but…"Nah." Gippal grinned. "She's heavier than she looks."

"Better not say it to her face." Keran rolled his eyes. "You know how girls are."

"Not really." Gippal winced. "Just Rikku."

Keran stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "_What_?"

"I've never been interested in other women. Just Rikku." He drained his mug. "She's important to me. She's _mine_. I grew up knowing she was my wife, that I'd have to protect her, keep her safe, put her happiness above my own." He shifted back in his chair with a sigh. "She's _everything_." He splayed his fingers out on the counter. "I'm _not_ going to give her up without a fight. I _can_ make her happy. Maybe _she_ doesn't need _me_, but _I_ need _her_."

"Whuh." Keran blew out a lungful of air, hunching over the counter. "That's pretty heavy. Guess I really _don't_ stand a chance." A wry sort of smile twisted his lips. "So what'd she have to say to all that?"

"Uh, well…" Gippal hesitated. "I haven't told her."

"_You stupid bastard._" Keran exploded. "Girls go _crazy_ for that shit. If you say that to her and mean it, she'll be like putty in your hands."

"Not Rikku." Gippal dropped his head. "She's _different_."

Keran arched a brow skeptically. "She can't be _that_ different. Who knows? Maybe she's changed. It's been a couple of years since you two were an item, yeah?"

"Yeah." Maybe Keran was right. Probably he knew Rikku better than Gippal did, now. "I don't know. Maybe she _has_ changed." He hoped not. He'd loved her just the way she was.

"Well," Keran clapped Gippal on the back in that brotherly sort of way. "What's the worst that can happen?"

Those, Gippal decided, were famous last words.


	6. Chapter 6

She ignored him. Except for one brief glance when he and Keran had arrived at the club, she ignored him completely. She managed to avoid looking at him, speaking to him, or even passing within ten feet of him.

Not that they would've had much to say to each other anyway. The music was loud, the bass pounding a rhythm so hard and furious that even the bar counter fairly vibrated with it. He wouldn't have taken Cid's girl for a dancer if he hadn't seen it himself. In their days together she could hardly have been called graceful. More often than not she'd tripped over her own feet and everything else in her path. But now she moved fluidly to the beat in a manner that could only be considered seductive, tempting, inviting. Maybe not _every_ man in the room was watching her, but a good portion had their eyes fixed on her swaying hips, obviously weighing their chances.

He would've liked to think it was for his benefit, that she was deliberately trying to irritate him…but it was more likely that she just naturally drew attention. Probably she wasn't at all concerned with him. After all, there wasn't really much he could do. Adultery was not a crime. She could sleep with anyone she wanted to, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

It irked him. He didn't want to think about her with other men. He hoped, _prayed_ that there hadn't been any, but with a girl as beautiful as Rikku? Unlikely. She was too pretty, too charismatic, too flirty to have gone without a lover for very long. Probably there were a lot of men just _dying_ for a chance with her.

Furious, he threw back his whiskey. The fiery liquid only fueled the flames of his anger.

"Whoa, take it easy," Keran shouted over the din. "You wanna be coherent at least when you get to talk to her, right?"

"Who can _talk_ in this?" Gippal complained. "Besides, she looks a little _busy_ if you hadn't noticed."

Keran glanced over his shoulder, his gaze sliding across the crowded club until he found where Rikku and a blond man were pressed closely together. The man leaned down, speaking in her ear. Rikku threw back her head and laughed at whatever it was he'd said. The man's fingers touched her hip, curving possessively over the expanse of bare skin between the hem of her skirt and the hem of her short, midriff-baring top. Keran winced.

"Why don't you go run him off? You're good at it, aren't you?"

"She'd get irritated if I tried it. She hates it when people interfere in her life." He sighed. "This was a bad idea." He wanted to get drunk and go home. And then maybe get drunker.

"So you're just gonna let him put his hands all over her? She's _your_ wife."

"But not by choice." Gippal winced. "She doesn't want me."

"So change her mind." Keran shoved Gippal a little, pushing him off the barstool. "She's looking a little irritated. If _you're_ not going to go be her knight in shining armor, _I_ will be."

Somehow Gippal had forgotten that Keran was also more than a little interested in Rikku. He didn't appreciate the reminder and glared at the shorter man.

"He's got his hand on her ass and she's mad. _Go_." Keran turned his attention to the bartender.

Scowling, Gippal twisted his way through the milling throng of writhing bodies towards Rikku and the nameless man across the room. On his approach, he caught the tail end of the shouted conversation.

"_Stop it_!" Rikku fished the man's fingers from beneath the hem of her skirt. She moved a little away, as far as the crowd allowed. He followed, laughing darkly as he grabbed her arm, pulling her close.

"Come on, baby, don't be like that." His other hand curved over her rear, jerking her against him.

"I _said_ let me _go_!" She twisted her arm from his grasp, shoving his chest. She seemed more angry than scared, but Gippal's blood boiled nonetheless. He was still wading through people, struggling towards her.

"Let's go somewhere more private." The man reached for her again, but Rikku was quicker. Her fist shot out lightening fast, a quick blow straight to the nose. Someone must've realized something was going on, because the music in the club cut off abruptly and the lights went up.

"_Bastard_," Rikku spat. Blood poured from what was certainly a broken nose. The man cupped one hand around it, his other hand clenching into a fist.

"_You little bitch, you broke my fucking nose_!" He started towards her.

"_I'll break more than that if you don't get the hell away from me!_"

Gippal burst through the crowd forming around the two, grabbing Rikku's shoulder and yanking her behind him. She stumbled backwards a little, surprised. One minute she'd been facing off with an irate pervert and the next she couldn't even _see_ the guy around Gippal. When had his shoulders gotten so broad? She sucked her bruised knuckles, wincing.

"You were saying?" Gippal's fingers lingered over his gun holster.

"My problem's with the girl, not _you_." The man's voice was a nasally whine. Blood poured over his fingers, dripping onto the floor. Rikku'd busted his nose _good_. Gippal was proud.

"She's my _wife_."

A low murmur spread through the crowd. Rikku flushed.

The man's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he backpedaled desperately. "What the hell's she doin' in a club, then? The hell was I supposed to think, when she starts coming on to me like that?"

Rikku stared at her toes, trying desperately to ignore the disapproving murmur of the crowd.

"Looked to me more like you were tryin' to take whatever you could get." Gippal's calm, even voice brooked no argument, and the man backed a few steps away.

"Well, uh, my mistake then." Someone handed him a couple of napkins, which he pressed to his nose, wincing. "I didn't know she was spoken for."

"Now you know." It wasn't just an announcement to the man, it was an announcement to the entire club.

"Yeah." The man backed away some more. "Yeah, um, right. I think I'd better go. I think I'm going to need a doctor." He laughed nervously.

"Good idea." Gippal watched until the man had gotten a safe distance towards the door. The crowd parted for him easily – no one wanted to be associated with the man who was on the receiving end of Gippal's anger. "Hey," Gippal called. He didn't know the man's name, he didn't care to know the man's name, but there was no doubt about who he was talking to. Expectantly, the man turned.

"You touch her again," Gippal said, slowly, softly, "and I'll kill you."

The man shivered at the threat, all but running out of the club into the night. For a moment, everyone was silent, waiting for Gippal's reaction. Then the music came back on, and the lights dimmed. Slowly the tense atmosphere faded, people went back to their dance partners and conversations. Gippal turned to face Rikku, who was seething, fists clenched at her sides.

"I was doing _fine_ on my own," she hissed. Abruptly she realized she was talking to the top of his head – he'd knelt down for some reason. Then his arms slid around her legs, just above her knees, and he stood. The world tilted crazily, and she braced her hands on his shoulders. "What the hell are you _doing_?!"

He brushed her hands away from his shoulders, and she fell forward, over his shoulder. Her skirt rode up her thighs, and she tugged it down with one hand, pounding on his back with the other. "Would you put me down!"

He declined to answer, instead he began threading his way through the crowd. He nodded to Keran, who waved briefly at Rikku from the counter before resuming his conversation with a pretty blonde girl. No one attempted to help her at all. She kicked futilely as he stepped out into the night.

"Stop it, Rikku." His hand hovered over her bottom warningly. "I don't want to drop you."

"Then put me down!" She poked at his sides. Once he'd been ticklish, but she supposed the solid muscle she felt now kept him from being so sensitive. She bounced with every jarring step he took. Irritated, she crossed her arms. He _still_ had a nice butt, she noticed. She wondered if he'd mind too much if she touched it. They _were_ married, she reasoned. It was _her_ butt, too, now. Frustrated, she uncrossed her arms and pinched his fabulous butt. _Hard_.

His hand came down across her upraised bottom sharply.

"You _spanked_ me!" She gasp, shocked.

"You _pinched_ me," he countered. She thumped his back hard with her palm.

"_When_ are you going to _stop_ treating me like a child?" She huffed, irritated.

"When you stop _acting_ like one. Now shut up, will you?"

They crossed a couple of bridges and went up two flights of stairs, to what appeared to be a relatively ritzy hotel. He strode into the lobby. The two people at the front desk didn't so much as blink as Gippal carried her right by them. He went up another flight of stairs and paused in front of a room, fishing in his pocket for the key. The door opened, and he stepped in, locking it behind them. Finally, he tossed her on the bed. She bounced, a little dizzy.

He disappeared into the bathroom, running a washcloth under cool water and wringing it out. He returned, dropping down on the edge of the bed, holding out his hand.

"Give me your hand," he demanded. Wordlessly, she set it in his. He touched the scraped knuckles gently, examining the tender skin. Gently he patted the washcloth over them. It was soothing.

"Are you mad?" She didn't mean for the question to sound so weak and girlish. He looked up at her.

"Yeah, I'm mad." He didn't _sound_ mad, but his jaw was clenched tightly. "That was a _stupid_ thing to do, kid. That guy could've hurt you."

"But he didn't." She raised her chin.

"But he _could_ _have_." It was an echo of their conversation at Djose a few days before. He didn't appreciate the comparison; he didn't _like_ knowing that she'd made him feel the same way that _she_ must've felt. The anxiousness, the worry, the blind panic. He sighed, bringing her knuckles to his lips. He kissed them softly. Sometimes she was foolish, getting herself into bad situations. But she'd done him proud tonight, giving that guy exactly what he deserved. He wasn't stupid enough to tell her that, though.

Instead he slid his free hand into her hair, cupping the back of her head, and bringing her lips to his. There hadn't been a kiss like this in _years_. He could taste her surprise, her shock, spicy on her tongue as his lips settled firmly over hers. He leaned into her, caressing her shoulder, her back, her hip. It took a moment, but eventually her eyes fluttered closed, and she tilted her head back just a little to let him deepen the kiss.

It was _good_. She was sweet and warm and soft. He'd missed it, missed her, missed _them_. Slowly, she pulled away, looking down and biting her lip. Her fingers clutched his shoulders.

"Gippal, you can't." It was a token protest and they both knew it.

"Yeah," he said, easing her backwards, "I _can_." He kissed her again, tugging her bottom lip with his teeth, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, encouraging her participation.

His arm cradled her head, and he loomed over her, big and strong and warm. He was Bikanel personified, everything she loved about the desert in one man. With her hands on his shoulders, she could feel the heat of his skin, the scorching desert sun burning her through him. He _smelled_ like the desert, earthy and masculine and exotic. His cheek scraped over her breasts – where had her shirt gone? – and she felt the sandy bank of the Oasis on her skin. He licked a wet, warm trail down her flat stomach, then blew across the moisture, and she felt a cool breeze over the hot dunes.

"Rikku." The fingers of one hand linked through hers, and his breath was warm on her thigh.

"Mmm." Her head turned on the cool pillow, trying to recapture Bikanel in her mind, trying to fall back through time to when they'd been a _real_ couple, _really_ in love.

"Tell me you want this." He wished he knew for sure. It had always been special to him, with her. If it didn't mean anything to her, it would somehow cheapen everything that had come before. He flicked a finger over her clit, and she shuddered, gasping. Her hand slid into his hair, grasping a fistful of it. He obliged her, easing up, feathering his mouth over her trembling lips.

"_Yes_, Gippal, _please_," she whispered against his lips. Her long lashes fanned her cheeks, stark black against her golden skin. Her hands clutched at him, diving into his pants, struggling against his belt and buttons with an urgency that she hadn't had before. He brushed her fumbling fingers away carefully, shrugging out of his clothes himself. Her nails dug into his skin, and her sharp teeth sank into his shoulder. He hissed in pain, pinning her back against the mattress.

"You _bit_ me."

"You're so _slow_." She glared. His lips touched her throat, nipping along the tender skin as his knee parted her legs. She pressed against him, gasping as his teeth caught her nipple. He was trying to take it slow, and all she wanted was for him to be inside her, hot and hard and _perfect_. She was _ready_, she wanted him _now_.

Her back arched as his fingers slipping silkily inside her, curving deep. She shivered, squeezing her eyes shut. Oh, it was so _good_, and she hadn't done this in so _long_.

"You're tight inside." He kissed her forehead, watching sweat bead on her brow. She was so ready for him, so slick and hot inside. But they weren't kids anymore; he'd grown, he could hurt her if she wasn't prepared.

She was fully prepared to complain about the lack of progress, but then he was pushing inside her and suddenly she realized why he'd been taking so long. He was bigger, thicker, or maybe she was just out of practice, because it was a little uncomfortable. He was pushing past muscles she hadn't used in _years_, and she winced. He was fighting for every inch he gained, but he noticed her expression and stopped.

"Hurting?"

"No," she quickly denied, "just a little…out of practice." She rocked her hips, feeling him sink a little deeper. His breath whooshed out. Her fingers flexed on his shoulders as she struggled to accommodate him. Everything about him was too much now, from his muscular arms, his large frame, his broad shoulders that blocked out the light, to the way he fit inside her, which was to say only _just_.

"Okay?" His lips touched hers, warm and soft, soothing, comforting. "That's it, Cid's girl." His hips were squarely over hers. She felt full, stretched beyond endurance. She felt him so deeply inside her that it felt like there were no empty spaces left – he'd filled everything, taken everything, _become_ everything.

She didn't want to become insignificant, an extension of him. She was afraid that if she yielded even a little he'd take everything from her. She wanted a lover who would be her partner, her friend. She didn't know if he could be that. The Squad had changed him, time had changed him. He was used to leading, and she didn't want to be stuck following.

His hand slid beneath her hips, arching them against his, and she gasped.

"Need a minute?" His voice was a husky whisper in her ear. She shook her head, moving just a little beneath him, hoping he'd take the hint. He did, carefully withdrawing. He was being gentle for _her_, and she knew it. He filled her slowly, sliding across nerve endings alive once more, taking the breath from her lungs, leaving her panting.

"Wow," he whispered, as breathless as she was. "It's been a long time, huh?"

She didn't understand how he could _talk_ now - everything in her was focused on the place they came together, feeling him hard and deep inside her. Her nails raked across his back, and he shuddered.

"You're gonna make me lose it if you keep doing that," he gasped, his face buried in her hair.

She turned her head to the side, finding his ear, tugging the lobe with her teeth…and scraped her nails down his back again.

"Damn!" He thrust, hard, making her back arch. His hands held her hips, lifting her to meet each hard, long thrust. A little keening cry left her arched throat. Her toes curled, legs wrapped tightly around his hips as he drove into her. It had been too long – they were starving for each other, in a desperate race for satisfaction. It was hot, it was hard, it was _amazing_.

She came, arms locked tightly around his neck, making tiny mewling noises in his ear. Her inner muscles clenched around him, and he tensed, trying desperately to hold back. His hands fisted in the sheets, and he gritted his teeth.

"Gippal." Her breathy little sigh shivered through him, and she nuzzled his shoulder, replete in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Her hips arched against his delicately, and he gasped, sucking in a lungful of air. He had wanted it to last longer, to exhaust her, to impress upon her the amazing chemistry they had, but if she kept up those little teasing motions, it was all going to be over.

"_Gippal_." Her hands clutched his rear, yanking him against her. He clenched his jaw against the sensations, but she remembered a thing or two from the old days. Her fingers brushed over his nipples caressingly, her lips teasing his ear as she rocked against him. He jerked, thrusting sharply. She liked that; he touched something deep inside her and she tingled all the way to her toes. She sucked his earlobe into her mouth, and he couldn't hold back anymore. He surged against her, clutching her hips to his, feeling like his spine was being jerked out with the force of his climax. Delicious little aftershocks of pleasure rippled through her.

"Damn," he sighed, collapsing over her. He was hard and heavy, but warm and more comfortable than any blanket she'd ever had. He caught his breath, fingers tangling in her hair. "I wanted it to last longer than that. I'm sorry."

"I don't think I could _live_ if it lasted any longer." She turned her head on the pillow, yawning. Her whole body was relaxed. She was sleepy, warm, satiated. He shifted off of her, wrapping his arms around her waist, drawing her back against him. His fingers slipped into hers. It was just how they'd slept together years ago, curled together, linked, always touching.

"Can I stay here…just for tonight?" She asked meekly.

He hadn't expected her to want to. He'd fully expected her to get dressed and walk out.

"Yeah, of course you can stay." He tucked the covers securely around them, kissing her neck, her cheek, her ear. "This is where you belong."


	7. Chapter 7

Gippal didn't know what to do. Rikku slept peacefully in his arms, completely unaware of his state of wakefulness and confusion. He wanted to keep her. He wanted their relationship to be what it had been once. He wanted her love, her passion, all the things he knew her to be and all the tenderness and devotion that she'd given him in the early days of their relationship. He'd never meant to hurt her. He'd just wanted her to be safe and happy. _She _was all he'd ever wanted, and he didn't have her, not anymore. 

She sighed in her sleep, but thankfully didn't wake. Maybe she subconsciously sensed his discomfiture. Maybe he'd just been holding her a little too tightly. She snuggled closer, her warm breath fanning his shoulder. His right hand cradled her head, sliding through cool, silky strands of hair. He could smell the faint aroma of her shampoo – a blend of citrus and honey, he thought, sweet and spicy, like her. His left hand covered hers, splayed across his chest, stroking the injured knuckles gently. Delicately he lifted it, bringing her hand to his face to kiss her palm. Then he curled her fingers around his kiss; a gift she'd never know he'd given her.

But _he'd_ know.

It was a torturous thing, lying awake while she slept, knowing that every second that passed brought nearer the time she would leave him again. Even as she lay cradled in his embrace, she slipped through his fingers. His wife, but not _his_. He couldn't keep her. He could offer her nothing that would erase the wrong he'd done her, ease the hurt that gripped her still. She didn't want him in any permanent capacity.

And he couldn't force her to stay with him; she would resist any such attempt. No amount of cajoling or coaxing would sway her – if she came to him, she'd come of her own free will or not at all. She had been self-sufficient for so long, she would not bend to the will of anyone else. She had grown accustomed to getting her way, to fighting for the things she wanted, to demanding the things she deserved, to rejecting the things she did not want.

And she didn't want him. He knew it. Even if he was her lover for tonight, she _didn't_ want him.

---

When she awoke, it was to the busy thrum of a Kilika morning – she could hear the raucous calls of the vendors on the streets below, the bell of the ferry as it made its last call for boarding passengers. The space beside her in the bed was cold. Slowly she sat up, putting her hand to her head as she struggled to identify her surroundings. The events of the previous evening came back to her slowly. She remembered Gippal, the touchy-feely man at the bar, and their sudden, unexpected exit. He'd taken her back to his hotel, and they'd slept together. It had been a mistake.

Vaguely, she registered the medicinal scent of some sort of liniment. Her hand was bandaged, the knuckles wrapped tightly in white gauze. It hadn't been last night, she remembered that much.

"I went to the market earlier," Gippal said. She turned towards his voice. He was seated in a chair by the window, fully dressed, elbows resting on his knees. Even his eye-patch was firmly situated.

"Oh."

"I didn't want your hand to get infected. You'll have to clean it and keep it wrapped for a few days." He didn't rise. His voice was deceptively soft and calm. She didn't know what he was thinking, and it made her uneasy.

"Okay." She clutched the covers a little tighter. It didn't matter that she'd slept with him last night, that she'd slept with him before. She didn't know him; not anymore. She hadn't known him for years. For all that they'd been so intimate in years past, for all that they were husband and wife, he might as well have been a stranger. "I should probably get going."

"No rush," he said slowly. "I've got this room for the next week."

"The Faction'll let you get away that long?"

"I run it as I see fit. It's about time I took a vacation." He clasped his hands together, leaning forward. "Rikku, we need to talk."

Her teeth clenched. "I don't think we do."

He made a soft, frustrated sound. "I didn't use anything. What if I made you pregnant?" He splayed his hands out appealingly. "What then, Rikku?"

It hadn't occurred to her. She didn't know why, but the consequences of their night together had been the furthest thing from her mind. And he was right – she wasn't protected. She'd had no reason to be, not until last night. She sighed, dragging a suddenly-shaky hand through her tangled hair. A baby. A baby with _Gippal_. It would only be one more tie to him she didn't want or need. A baby would be a complication neither of them needed.

"Come back to Djose with me," he said suddenly, impulsively. "We can wait it out and make decisions if it comes to that."

"No." She frowned at him. "I'm staying here. I don't want to go to Djose." It would be maybe a month or more before they'd know for sure. She didn't think she could live with him for that length of time and _not _go crazy. She knew better than to trust him, but she was still weak where he was concerned. It would be stupid to go along with him.

"Then I'll stay, too." He folded his hands. "Until we know for sure." He stole a glance at her, debating whether or not he should pose the question lurking in his mind. "What would you do?"

"What do you mean?" She didn't understand.

"I'm sure you don't want to be pregnant, especially not by me. What are you going to do if you're pregnant?" He shifted uncomfortably.

"It'd be _your _kid, too," she reminded him bitterly. Already she was regretting going to bed with him. A simple night spent in his arms could cost her so much.

"It's your body. It's not my decision to make." His gaze drifted to her helplessly. "What would you _do_, Rikku? Would you…get rid of it?"

"_No_," she gasped, horrified that he thought she would do something like that. "No, _god_, no. How could _think _that? It's a baby, not a…a piece of _garbage_."

He blew out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, thrilled with her vehement denial. He'd been tormenting himself with the possibility all morning, and it was a weight lifted from his shoulders to have that fear dismissed.

"Would you…want it?"

"Even if it wasn't planned, it would _still _be my responsibility. Of course I'd want my own kid." She sounded offended that he thought she might not.

"It's not that I thought you wouldn't want your own kid, Rikku." He splayed his hands out entreatingly, willing her to understand that he'd run the gamut of emotional turmoil in a few short hours, and he needed reassurance. "It's more that I thought…maybe you wouldn't want _mine_."

She understood something of what he might be thinking. It would be the ultimate rejection. She sighed. It seemed hindsight really _was_ twenty-twenty. If she had foreseen this happening yesterday, she would never have gone with him. Or, she amended, she would've brought protection. But…she _loved _kids. She couldn't imagine aborting her child simply because she didn't want a permanent tie to Gippal.

"I wouldn't do something like that," she said slowly. "Not for anything."

He nodded. "I'm sorry. For insulting you, I mean. I should have known better." He leaned back in his chair. "I guess it doesn't make much sense to borrow troubles, does it? We're worrying about something that might never come to pass."

"Right." She brushed her disheveled hair over her shoulder. "D'you think I could use your shower?"

"Yeah, sure," he said absently.

She didn't move. When he realized why, he couldn't help but smile.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"You're still sitting there," she responded tightly. "You could, oh, I don't know, get me a towel or my clothes or something?"

"Now, why would I want to do that? I'd miss the show." His lips twitched as he suppressed laughter. She threw a pillow at him.

"Come on, honey. I've seen everything you've got already," he protested.

She threw the other pillow.

"Need I remind you that we're _married_? It's perfectly acceptable for me to see you naked."

Huffing irritably, she tugged the sheet tighter around her, and gingerly swung her legs over the side of them bed. He watched her arrange it until she could comfortably walk while wrapped in it. She glared at him as she trudged towards the bathroom. The door closed behind her, and he heard the click of the lock. He could hear her grumbling to herself as she twisted the shower knobs, adjusting the temperature.

He knew it would take her a while – she'd always used to take forever in the shower, and he was pretty sure it'd take a while for her to fix up her hair as she liked to do, so he called for room service. He figured the least he could do was buy her breakfast.

When she emerged sometime later, he was seated cross-legged on the abandoned bed, watching television, a plate of food on his lap. He waved his fork at the cart.

"I ordered breakfast. Help yourself." He chomped down on a piece of potato.

Tentatively she peeked under one of the silver coverings at the food he'd ordered. He'd devoured most of the hash browns already and she didn't really have much of a fondness for pancakes. She settled on an apple.

"Well, thanks for letting me spend the night," she said awkwardly. "I'd better get going."

"I'll be around," he said. "You'll find me here if you need me. I'll stick close by until we're sure, one way or the other. Can't have the mother of my child getting into bar fights."

"Yeah, well, that guy deserved what he got." She tossed the apple up and caught it. "I'll…I'll let you know when I find out. Sorry about all the worry."

He shook his head, swallowing a mouthful of blueberry pancake. "It's my fault, I should've known better. I should've protected you. Besides," he waved vaguely with his fork. "I wouldn't really say I'm all that _worried_. A baby might be…kind of nice. At any rate, it'd change things, but it wouldn't be the end of the world, you know?"

She sighed. "It'd…complicate things."

He snorted. "When have things ever _not _been complicated where you were concerned? Complication is nothing new. But think about it. You like kids. I like kids. It wouldn't be so bad to have one of our own, would it, Rikku?"

God, he'd make pretty babies. She bit into her apple. With the sweet, tart juice came a rush of sanity. If she let him, he'd talk her into getting pregnant on purpose. He could convince her of damn near anything if he tried hard enough. And _that_ scared the hell out of her.

"I'm going," she said. "You'll know when I know."

She turned and headed for the door, too late to see him grin. He'd seen the uncertainty cross her features – for a space of seconds she'd _wanted _a baby. Not just because she felt an obligation to an unplanned child, but she had actually _wanted_ one. As if it weren't a consequence, but a blessing fate had deemed fit to bestow upon her.

Now if he could only convince her to want _his _children, and _him _to go along with them, they might actually be _getting _somewhere.


	8. Chapter 8

The apple made a satisfying crunching sound with every bite she took. It wasn't the most exciting breakfast she'd ever had (there had been a couple of times on that first pilgrimage she'd been _sure _whatever she'd been eating wasn't quite dead yet), but at that particular moment, Rikku did not think she really needed much more excitement. 

It seemed it was all she could do to try to wrap her mind around the possibility of becoming a mother. She wanted kids. Of course she did. She'd always had dreams of a big, happy family, dreams that had promptly been squished like bugs when Cid had announced she no longer had her pick of spouses.

_A baby_. She bit noisily into her apple. A real, live baby. A baby that would laugh and play and maybe be a little miniature of her. A baby to love, a baby to love her back.

_Oh, wait_. A baby that might also be a miniature of Gippal. A baby he would love, a baby he would want to love him. A baby he would want to take part in raising.

But a _baby_. A little cuddly piece of both of them. It might be her only chance for a baby – at least, one born to legally married parents. Children were often cruel – she wouldn't want to subject a child to mockery simply because it was not the child of legally married parents. And she would never be able to remarry legally. What if she never got her big, happy family?

It hurt just to think about it. In one fell swoop, all of her fragile, cherished dreams had been snatched away. How could her father have expected her to understand his meddling, how could Gippal have expected her to accept his lies a second time around?

It was wretchedly unfortunate that she was still struggling to kill off the last remnants of the love she'd had for him. She might still harbor some misplaced affection for him, but she'd never trust him. She'd learned her lesson.

_Fool me twice, shame on me._ She polished off the last of her apple bitterly, tossing the rind into a nearby trash barrel.

"Hey, Xac, isn't that the bitch that busted your nose last night?"

Rikku heard the overly loud call, and decided to ignore it. She was _not _in the mood to be bothered by anyone's histrionics. She had her own issues to work over. Still, a prickle of unease skittered up her spine. She didn't look up; rather she kept her expression carefully neutral and continued walking.

"Yeah, I think it is. She's not so brave now that she can't hide behind her man." The smug statement made her grit her teeth, but she ignored him.

She made to pass the small group of leering Yevonites without issue, but they were having none of it.

"_Filthy Al Bhed whore,_" the one called Xac hissed spitefully.

She'd tried. She could honestly say she'd tried not to let them get to her. But they'd been bound and determined to get a reaction, and really, who was she to deny them one?

She broke his fucking nose _again_.

---

It had been almost two weeks since he'd last seen her. He hadn't really wanted to make her uncomfortable by hovering around her, but he'd kept contact with Keran, so he'd gleaned little bits of information from the other man. Nothing had been particularly helpful except to reassure him that she was still alive and in good health, and she'd managed to break the same stupid man's nose again, somehow.

He hadn't really known when he should be expecting some news from her – he'd suspected he might have to go find out about her himself. He knew she didn't really want to be within twenty feet of him if she could help it, and he couldn't imagine she would voluntarily seek him out. Which was why it came as a shock when he returned to his hotel and received a message from the front desk saying he'd gotten a commsphere call.

The receptionist was pretty, he supposed, in a bland, forgettable sort of way, and she didn't seem to care that she was flirting with an obviously involved man. "She didn't say what she wanted, sir, only that she'd tried your room and you hadn't answered, and that she'd like us to pass on the message that she called." She smiled sweetly, but Gippal was more interested in the message than the person delivering it.

"How did she look?" He didn't know much about pregnancy. Could she tell this early? Could she have morning sickness or something?

"Beg pardon?" The receptionist stared at him quizzically, as though not quite sure what he was asking.

"How did she _look_? Did she look sick, or happy, or sad, or what?" He pressed his palms on the counter top, anxiously awaiting her reply.

"Well, now that I think about it," she tapped one perfectly manicured fingernail to her cheek as she considered. "She looked kind pale. It could've been a bad frequency, I guess. No, no, I'm certain she looked a little ill. Maybe more pained than ill. I can't be sure, she didn't say."

He was headed for the door before she'd even finished her recollection. She frowned after him, vexed at being almost completely ignored. The other receptionist chuckled knowingly.

"That one's a lost cause for you, honey," she said. "Totally enamored with that girl of his. Rare, these days, to see such devotion."

---

It was a dream she'd had many times before, but one that hadn't surfaced – even in her subconscious – for many years. And it was a beautiful dream. Gippal, carrying their towheaded son on his strong shoulders, holding the hands of their two daughters. Gippal, smiling at her with such obvious love and affection that she wanted to cry. Gippal, proud papa, devoted husband. It was the most beautiful dream in the world.

She reached out to stroke the little boy's tousled hair, and the dream faded away like a desert mirage. Beautiful and fleeting, filled with false hope and wonder. Those children would never belong to her.

She slipped back into consciousness with her fingers still outstretched, hovering over the water glass on her nightstand. Feeling foolish, she picked it up and sipped slowly. All she wanted was to go back to sleep.

"Need anything?" Gippal's voice broke the quiet in the room – it took a moment for her to pick him out of the darkness. He was lounging against the wall – obviously he had been waiting for her to wake up.

It had taken all of her willpower to stifle the shriek that had risen in her throat. She swallowed it down with a hearty gulp of water.

"How'd you get in?" She asked finally.

He slipped a key from his pocket, setting it on her nightstand. "You left this above the doorframe. Only like _the _most obvious hiding spot for a spare key ever. You're lucky you haven't been burgled out of house and home yet."

"Obviously the good people of Kilika are not so criminally minded as you." She'd meant it to be an insult, but he just smiled.

"So." He took a seat at the edge of the bed, sliding his fingers into her loose hair. "Wanna tell me why you called?"

She reclined back against the pillows, drawing the blanket up to her chin. "I'm not pregnant," she said. "I thought you'd want to know. You know, so you can get back to Djose."

He hesitated a moment. She didn't look happy – she looked disconcerted. He wanted to know why. "Are you feeling okay?"

She shrugged. "Yeah."

"Rikku." He put a palm against her chest, holding her down even as he pinned her with a look. "I want an honest answer."

She squirmed under his intense gaze, but with his hand on her chest, she couldn't move far. Finally she gave in. "I've got cramps and a wicked headache," she said softly. "I'm pretty miserable."

"Poor baby," he said, stroking her cheek.

She almost wished it wasn't genuine concern darkening his gaze – mockery would have been so much easier to bear. He stretched out beside her, prodding her shoulder. "Roll over."

Dumbfounded, she did as he instructed. His warm hands inched her nightshirt over her head, tossing the garment aside. Then they slid soothingly over the bare skin of her back. Almost at once her stiff muscles melted beneath his gentle touch. Her whole body relaxed, her headache eased. She slid slowly back towards the healing comfort of sleep.

He knew she was fading into sleep – he could feel it in the lax muscles beneath his palms, hear it in the soft, even breaths she took. He pressed his lips to the back of her neck. She murmured something, but it wasn't a complaint.

"To be honest," he told her softly, "I'm a little disappointed. I would've loved a baby, Rikku."

But she was so near sleep at that point that in the morning she would be unsure whether or not she had dreamed it all up.

---

He left when she fell asleep. It was only right – she didn't want him there, not really. She'd been eager to tell him he could leave Kilika whenever he chose, since there wasn't a reason for him to stick around anymore. He hadn't told her that she was all the reason he needed to stick around.

He'd wanted her to be pregnant. He'd wanted it so fiercely that it had surprised him. It would be a permanent, irrevocable tie. It would've been the only part of her he'd ever really have. And now he had nothing at all. No love. No family. Nothing.

He'd always thought one day he'd have a big family, and he'd always imagined Rikku being part of it. He couldn't remember a time that he hadn't loved her, that he hadn't known he would spend the rest of his life with her. Or, at least, _trying _to be with her. When they were younger, it had all seemed so easy. Fall in love, grow up, have a ton of kids, and live happily ever after. It had taken years for him to understand that Rikku didn't want to share his happily ever after anymore. He still hadn't quite managed to accept it.

He sighed, fighting off the depression that had been stalking him for the past few years with another shot of whiskey. It was stupid to drink as much as he was drinking, and he knew it. But, just for one night, he didn't want to remember what Cid had cost him. What he'd cost himself.

A familiar face caught his eye. A face that might've been handsome, if not for the bandages crisscrossing the length of the man's nose. A face that had leered at his wife a few weeks ago. A face that Gippal had dreamed of bashing in himself.

And he was suddenly furious – furious with the man who'd accosted his wife after Gippal had specifically instructed him to keep his distance, and furious with Rikku for not telling him. But only one of them was around currently, and Gippal intended to make sure that the man never forgot himself again.

"You." He stalked across the bar, straight and steady despite the copious amount of liquor he'd ingested. He stopped a foot away from the man, who'd been trying unsuccessfully to melt into the crowd of people behind him. Obviously he only accosted the people he felt were weaker than him. Gippal was disgusted. "Stay the hell away from my wife," he said. His fingers lingered over the gun at his hip, leaving no doubt as to his intent.

The spineless man had mustered up enough vertebrae to stay upright in the face of Gippal's wrath. Despite his obvious fear of Gippal, he felt he was entitled to revenge upon Rikku.

"She broke my nose _again_," he hissed finally. "She's gonna pay for it somehow."

Gippal took a swing, connecting satisfyingly with the man's jaw. He went down easily, and glared up at Gippal. Gippal knew instinctively that the man wouldn't fight back – he only fought when he was sure he could win.

"You can't protect her _all_ the time," he spat, blood dribbling down his chin from his split lip. A shiver worked its way down Gippal's spine. He grabbed for the man, but he ducked away, scrambling towards the door before Gippal could stop him.

"If I ever see you again, I'll shoot first and ask questions later!" Gippal snarled as the man tripped out the door. He wanted nothing more than to draw and shoot the man right there, but killing the man in a roomful of people would surely get him tossed in jail.

But all night, the thought of that man haunted him. He couldn't explain why, but he somehow he knew his failure to shoot the man was going to be the worst decision he'd ever made.

---

Rikku started when she opened her front door and found Keran there.

"Keran! I wasn't expecting you. I'd invite you in, but I'm on my way to the market. Want to come?" She was already walking, and he was already following her. As long as he'd known her, she always been happy to see him. She'd never turned him away, had never been too busy for him. He found her enthusiasm infectious. It was just too bad she was still interested in her husband. He sighed.

"There's something you've got to know, Rikku," he said.

"Hmm?" She cocked her head to the side, absorbed with hailing a longboat to take them to the marketing district.

"Gippal was in a bar last night with that guy you hit," he said.

"Xac," she whispered, suddenly all ears. She wasn't afraid of the man, but she was wary of him.

"Yeah." Keran shoved his hands in his pockets. "Apparently, when Gippal warned him again to stay away from you, he made a threat that gave Gippal reason to fear for your safety. I'll be tagging along with you until Gippal can track the bastard down." He saw no reason to add that Gippal would probably kill the man when he found him. In the grand scheme of things, no one would miss the man.

"So you're…protecting me?"

He grinned. "More or less. Gippal even lent me this fancy gun." He slipped it from its holster handing it over to her. Rikku checked it over.

"You know how to use it?" She inquired.

"Sure do. I'm not just some useless rich boy," he said. "I'm a useless rich boy who also happens to be an expert marksman." He re-holstered the gun, sticking his thumbs through his belt loops. "So I don't want to worry you or anything. We're watching out for you. But in the event anything should happen, if I tell you to run, you run like hell, okay? Those daggers of yours are pretty wicked, but I don't want you taking any chances."

"Okay." _She_ didn't want to worry _him_, so she agreed without argument.

"All right." He grinned, helping her down into the longboat. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

It was much more like a planned outing than being followed by a bodyguard. He helped her choose fruit and vegetables and even helped carry her bags.

"This one's nice." He tossed her a cantaloupe, which she tucked in a bag to hand over to the vendor.

Her purse slid out of her grasp, and she bent to retrieve it. Just as she did, she heard the loud report of a pistol, followed by the frightened cries of the crowd. The bags Keran had been carrying hit the ground – she heard the glass milk bottle shatter, saw an egg roll down the lane. She looked up at Keran with a face gone white. His hands touched the red stain blossoming across his chest. His mouth worked, but no sound came out except for a desperate little wheeze. He must've gotten a punctured lung. His panicked eyes met hers, and he mouthed one word.

_Run_.

She hurtled through the crowd. A bullet whizzed past her ear, slamming into a wooden beam just across from her. Stinging splinters flew off of it. She had just a few seconds before he'd reload, just a few seconds to get as far as she could.

Another loud blast, and a bullet hit the side of a building. He was following her. He had to be following her. But at least everyone would know his face. He'd never get away with killing her. He'd spent the rest of his miserable life in jail, or running from the law

You didn't just kill former guardians and get away with it.

A hysterical giggle burst from her. How _could_ she be thinking something so foolish at a time like this?

Her lungs were going to burst. She was sure of it. She hadn't heard a gunshot blast in a while, but she wasn't foolish enough to stop running. She was going to run until she couldn't run anymore. Until she collapsed. Until someone caught that son of a bitch. The man who'd shot Keran. The man who'd shot her friend.

A little whimper worked its way out of her throat. _Keran_. He'd always been so kind to her. If he was dead, if he'd died because of her…

A hand shot out of an alleyway, catching her wrist as she raced past. She shrieked, thrashing, flailing, her free hand reaching for her dagger even as she was dragged into the darkened alley.

"Shhh." An arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. "Shhh, Rikku, it's just me."

Gippal. It was Gippal who stroked her hair, who held his gun cocked, ready to fire should anyone come into the alley uninvited. She burst into relieved sobs, twining her arms around his neck, and pillowing her head on his shoulder.

"Gippal, he shot him. He shot Keran," she whispered.

"He'll be fine." Even as he said it, he prayed it wasn't a lie. "He'll be fine, honey." He kept his gun trained on the entrance to the alleyway, letting her catch her breath. She was panicked, terrified. She'd seen her friend get shot, she'd outrun a spray of bullets.

She shuddered, hiccoughing. What she needed most right now was to be safe. To not be standing in a deserted alleyway wondering if every breath she drew might be her last. He needed to get her away from there.

He brushed her bangs away from her face, kissing her cheek. "I almost had him twice this morning," he said. "But I lost him around the restaurant district. I don't know Kilika all that well. We've got to get out of here." He urged her behind him. "What's the quickest way to the docks?"

"I don't know." She couldn't think. "I'm not sure. It's not far, I don't think."

"Good. Lead the way."

"What?" She reeled with shock. "You want me to go back out there? What if he's – "

He cut her off. "Don't think about him. Do you trust me?"

"I don't under – "

"Do you trust me to keep you safe?" He pulled a small gun from his pants pocket and tossed it to her, instructing her to turn off the safety.

"Yes." She was surprised to discover it was the truth. She did trust him. He would always take care of her. She looked down at the small weapon resting on her palm. "What's this for?"

"Just in case. It's just one shot, but with luck you won't need it at all." He peeked around the corner of the alleyway – no one was in sight. "I'm pretty sure it was just the one guy," he said. "But that doesn't make him any less dangerous. I don't know if he's been caught or if he's still out there, so I'm not taking any chances. We'll head straight to the docks. If you hear a gunshot, you hit the floor and hide, okay? If you see the bastard, you shoot him. I'll be covering you. I'm a bigger target, it'll make you harder to hit."

He steered them out into the main thoroughfare at a pace just shy of a full run. His hand hovered over his weapon in case he needed to make a quick draw. "If I go down, you keep running, you understand? Don't stop for anything. Get to the docks."

"Where are we going?" she gasped. "I mean, when we get to the docks."

"Djose," he said back. "It's the only place I can be sure you'll be safe."


	9. Chapter 9

Compared to the adventure they'd lived through that morning, the trip back to Djose was dull and uneventful. Rikku stood at the rail of the ferry the entire trip to Luca, with Gippal standing protectively behind her, shielding her with his much larger body. He surrounded her on all sides. It was the safest she'd felt all day. When the ferry finally docked in Luca, it was a short hover ride back to Djose. 

After telling Rikku to make herself comfortable, he spent twenty minutes reeducating his crew on proper safety procedures and letting them know that someone had a personal vendetta against Rikku and to be watchful for him.

Assured that he would be the first to know should any suspicious people be spotted or anything go amiss, he went upstairs to check on Rikku. It worried him that she seemed so jumpy and frightened. He didn't know if it was a reflection on her opinion of his ability to protect her, but he couldn't imagine her actually being afraid of anything. For crying out loud, the girl had gone on two journeys that would've killed most men, much less a teenage girl. If she hadn't been afraid of Sin and she hadn't been afraid of Vegnagun, why the hell was she afraid of a vain, stupid man with a gun?

She was pacing around his room when he found her. She didn't sit or stay in one place, and she noticeably avoided the window. She wrung her hands. He thought maybe the shock of the morning's events was finally hitting her. But when she turned to face him, she looked perfectly calm. Frightened, but not in shock.

"Where am I staying?" she asked softly.

"Here," he said.

"This is _your _room." She looked confused.

"Yeah. It's also the safest place for you to be, until that man is caught." He tossed her a towel. "Go take a bath, unwind, relax a little if you can. I'm headed back to Kilika to pick up some of your things. I'll also be stopping by the police station to see what I can find out about your stalker. And the hospital," he added, "to see about Keran. Anything you want?"

She shook her head, wondering if he'd be going to the hospital or the morgue. "If…if he's alive, tell him I'm sorry."

"I will not." He scowled. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. I'll tell him you wish him a fast recovery and that you'll visit as soon as you're able."

"Okay." She turned again, making as if to resume her pacing. "Tell him that, then. If he's alive." Gippal turned her around and pointed her in the direction of the bathroom.

"He's alive," he said. "He's made of tougher stuff than that. Besides, he probably only caught a chest wound, since – " he cut off abruptly, but it was too late.

"Since he wasn't the target," she finished. "He caught a bullet because I dropped my purse. He took a bullet that was meant for me. If he's dead, it's my fault."

"Stop saying that!" He crossed the room, took hold of her shoulders, and shook her. "It's _not _your fault some idiot can't handle rejection. You're not responsible for the actions of an unbalanced man." He was frustrated with her, and it showed. "Look, you can do whatever you want so long as you stay in the temple. I don't want you answering the door, and I don't want you answering the commsphere. Don't call anyone, don't look out the windows. Until I found out what's going on, you're off the map, got it?" He waited until she nodded, then headed for the door.

"I'll probably be late," he said. "Don't wait up for me."

---

When he did return, lugging a bag filled with her clothes, he found her curled up in the center of his bed. She looked so fragile and vulnerable lying there that he suddenly realized how easily her life could have been snuffed out today – all it would've taken was that one bullet, and the brilliant spark of her life would've been extinguished forever.

Maybe that was what had frightened her so much – perhaps living through so many adventures had helped her understand how precious life was.

He dropped the bag, and slid into the bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her midsection. He winced when she made a strangled gasp, and then tensed in his arms as if to fight.

"It's me. It's just me." Probably he should've turned on a light or something, so she could see his face. He pulled her closer, pressing her face against his shoulder. Her fingers – which had been curved into claws only seconds before – hooked into his shirt like she never intended to let him go.

"I don't want to die," she whispered. "Not like that. Not because I broke someone's nose. I didn't live through so much to die so meaninglessly. I would've died for Yuna. I would've died for Spira. I won't die for this. I _won't_." She said it fiercely, and then hesitated, drawing a shaky breath. "I'm ashamed of being so afraid. I don't understand it. I wasn't afraid to die before."

"You're not going to die." He squeezed her until she squeaked. "I'm not going to let you, okay? You said you trusted me to keep you safe."

"I do." Her fingers tightened, and she tucked her head under his chin. "I do trust you."

It was probably the most wonderful thing she could've said to him just then. He smoothed her hair, brushing the tangled mass over her shoulders.

"I saw Keran tonight," he said. "In the hospital," he added when she tensed.

"And?" She was holding her breath, he could feel it.

"He says you damn well better do what I say, because if you're dead when he gets out of the hospital, he's going to kill you again."

Her held breath escaped with a little sound that was half sob, half laughter.

"He's going to be fine, honey," he clarified. "He's in a lot of pain. He's got a punctured lung, and he'll have to stay in the hospital for a while so they can make sure he doesn't get pneumonia, but he's going to make a complete recovery. He doesn't blame you. He's just glad you're okay."

He thought she might be crying – a strange, seeping wetness touched his collar, slowly spreading down the neckline of his shirt.

"I'm glad." She curled into him a little more, and her body relaxed for what was surely the first time that day. "I'm so glad, Gippal."

Probably it was the first good news she'd heard all day. He stroked her back and kissed the top of her head.

"Rikku," he said slowly, "they haven't caught him yet. You're going to have to stay here for a while."

She shivered, and he tucked the blanket tighter around her even though he knew that it wasn't cold that had prompted the little involuntary shudder.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "He's already all over the news. They're printing up Wanted posters as we speak, and they're not asking for him to be brought in alive." He shifted next to her, drawing her fully into his arms. "You'll be safe here until he's brought in. You don't just shoot at a former guardian and get a slap on the wrist, huh?"

A surprised laugh gurgled out of her throat – she was shocked to hear him echoing her frantic thoughts from earlier in the day.

He was going his best to keep her both informed and relaxed, and she appreciated his efforts. He was weaving a subtle web of tranquility around her, and, with her head pillowed on his shoulder, she felt comfortable and secure.

"You should get some sleep," he said at her ear, his voice low and warm, soothing in its even, unruffled tone.

"Don't go." She clutched at his shirt, convinced he'd leave her if she let him. And she really didn't want to be alone. She wanted him to keep talking to her, to keep reassuring her.

"I'm not going anywhere." He hadn't moved an inch. "You're in _my _bed, remember? I'm just being nice and sharing it with you."

He _was _being nice, she had to admit. He didn't have to take care of her. He didn't have to protect her, to keep her with him, to comfort her when she was feeling miserable and useless. But he did it anyway. She didn't really understand it.

"I can leave," she said. "If you want. I mean, I'm probably more trouble than I'm worth at this point, right? You run a business, and it'll probably be hard to do with me here, huh? And maybe dangerous. God, what if he comes here?" Her breath hitched at the thought – it was bad _enough_ that her folly had put Keran in the hospital.

"Honey, Djose is all but impenetrable," he replied. "And I've already given my staff the summarized version of events. If he does show up, we'll go into immediate lockdown mode. He'll never set foot inside, I promise."

He sounded sincere, he sounded like he believed it completely and totally, and she had no reason to doubt him, but…

"You're sure?" She hoped her voice hadn't sounded as whiny and petulant as she thought it had.

"I'm sure." He ruffled her hair affectionately, settling back against the pillows. "Go to sleep, okay? It's been a long day."

---

Some odd noise woke her in the middle of the night. She shot up in bed, gasping, still half in the clutches of a terrifying nightmare. Her back was coated in sweat and her muscles were tense and aching.

"It's just the heater," Gippal said groggily, his voice muffled by the mound of pillows he'd buried his face in. "Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep, honey."

"It…it sounded scary," she said. "I'm a little wound up. Can I use your commsphere?" She needed to call Yuna, to make sure that her dream had been just that – an awful dream.

"Sure," he mumbled. "But if you're not back in fifteen minutes, I'm coming to find you."

She carefully climbed over Gippal – who was sleeping on the outside edge for her safety – and stumbled over her bag. She lugged it with her to the bathroom to change into a new set of night clothes, and then headed for Gippal's office. She didn't know why she was being so quiet about it – there were no workers in the temple for her to disturb.

She slipped into Gippal's office and turned on the commsphere and fidgeted while she waited for it to connect.

A few moments later, Yuna's face appeared in the sphere, sleepy but concerned.

"I heard about what happened in Kilika," she said by way of greeting. "Are you doing okay?"

"I'm fine." Rikku sighed, relieved to see Yuna looking healthy and _alive_. So maybe that nightmare really had been just a horrible dream. Still, she couldn't help feeling a little jittery and nervous. "I was worried about you. I had a nightmare."

"A dream is just a dream." Yuna smiled. "You should go back to sleep. Don't worry so much; we're fine. You're the one who's been through hell today. You should be taking care of yourself right now. I bet Gippal would say the same thing."

"He sure would."

Rikku jumped at the sound of Gippal's voice, surprised. He was standing in the doorway without a shirt, leaning against the doorframe.

"Hi, Gippal. Take care of my cousin, okay? Don't let her get out of bed again." Yuna stifled a yawn with one hand.

"I won't. Her fifteen minutes are up; I'm taking her back to bed now. That okay with you?" He shouldered away from the door frame.

She nodded her assent. "I've got to get back to bed, myself. Rikku, you can always call me if you need me. But if it's not urgent, d'you think you could wait until sunrise at least?"

"Sorry," Rikku said sheepishly. "I was just worried. Have a good night."

"You, too. Be safe." The sphere went dark.

"Come on, honey." He held out a hand, helped her up, then wrapped an arm around her waist. "Less worried now?"

"I don't know." She shrugged, letting him lead her through the dark halls back towards his bedroom. She plunked down on the bed with a sigh. "I really don't know. Gippal, if he can't get to me, what if he goes after Yuna? What if he goes after the people I love, to get to me?"

"He's not that smart," Gippal concluded, dropping down beside her. "He'd be recognized. He'd have to be an idiot to go anywhere near a city." He threw an arm over her, pulling her back against his chest. "Get some sleep, okay? There's no way he'll be going after your family."

He felt her relax against him, soothed by his firm denial. He just hoped it was the truth.


	10. Chapter 10

Despite the fact that she had assured him that she was neither anxious nor worried, he saw the truth of it come out at night. She slept fitfully – _if_, indeed, she slept at all. And because she tossed and turned and thrashed all night, in the grips of what seemed to be terrifying nightmares, he was lucky if he got an hour of undisturbed rest all night. Finally, after so many nights with little sleep, he caught her in his arms at the peak of her thrashing, pressing her cheek to his chest to hush her frightened whimpers. To his surprise, she quieted right down, snuggled up against him, and slept easily the rest of the night. 

It was his first restful night's sleep in almost a week, and he wasn't about to let it end with one.

But the next night, when he finally came to bed and drew her into his arms, she protested.

"That's really not necessary," she said, pushing away from him. "I'm not a child. I don't want to be treated like one." She was frustrated with being coddled, with no longer being the mistress of her own destiny. And maybe she was going a little stir-crazy, being kept inside all day. She wanted fresh air and sunshine. She wasn't at all accustomed to confinement and she didn't much like it.

"I'm not trying to treat you like a kid," he said, bemused. "I just want to get some sleep."

"Then get some." She flipped around, facing the wall. He made an irritated sound in the back of his throat, and reached for her again.

"Look," he began, when he had her securely tucked up against him. "For the past week you've been keeping me up at night with some pretty nasty nightmares. Last night when you were thrashing around, I pulled you close, like this." He pressed her head to his shoulder and wrapped his free arm around her waist. "And you calmed down right away and we _both _got a good night's sleep for once."

"I was really keeping you up at night?"

"Yeah," he said. "You kept kicking me and stuff. At first, I thought you were doing it on purpose. But then you started making these really awful little whimpering sounds." He didn't tell her how much those sounds had wrenched his heart, how worried he'd been for her.

"I'm sorry," she said slowly. "I didn't know. I can sleep on a couch or something. I didn't mean to keep you awake."

"You're in here for a reason," he reminded her. "I'm not mad. I just want us to be able to get some sleep. You can't help it if you get nightmares. Has it occurred to you that maybe the reason you calmed down last night is because I make you feel safe?"

It _had_ occurred to her, but that didn't mean she felt comfortable discussing the possibility. She didn't want to be held. Being held made her remember things she wanted so badly to forget. She didn't want to wake up in his arms thinking maybe she'd dreamed the last few years. She didn't want reality to come crashing down on her moments later, when he reminded her not to leave the temple just like he'd done every day for the past week.

But she owed him a good night's sleep at least, and if this was the only way he thought he'd get it, she'd do it.

"You know," he remarked wryly, "you don't have to sound like it's going to kill you."

"What?"

"You let out this big sigh, like you were making some sort of huge sacrifice. Well, I'll have you know, it's a pretty damn big sacrifice on my part as well," he grumbled.

"Just exactly _how _is it such a big sacrifice for _you_?" She inquired, offended.

"Don't you know?" He shifted, placing his hand at the small of her back and drawing her closer. Their hips touched and she swallowed a gasp as she felt him hard and hot against her. His warm breath stirred the fine hair at her ear. She struggled just to take a proper breath.

"Don't you know what it does to me, to have you so close?" he murmured. "Last night, we were lying just like this, only you were all warm and soft and I could feel all of you against me." His palm curved over her rear, gently fitting her hips more firmly to his. Her breath hitched in her throat; her hands curled into fists, but stayed uselessly tucked up under her chin. She couldn't help the little shudder that slipped down her spine. He knew she wasn't cold, but he drew the blankets up around them anyway.

She knew she shouldn't let him kiss her. Kissing would lead to _other things _and those _other things _would lead to another month of worrying whether or not they were going to be parents. But, as his lips brushed hers, she couldn't seem to make herself tell him to stop. He tugged her lower lip with his teeth and lazily stroked her tongue with his. Several minutes later, when she felt his fingers sliding slowly beneath her camisole, she had the presence of mind to draw back just a little, pressing her small hands against his chest.

"W-we can't do this," she said. "Gippal, if I got pregnant right now, I'd be putting an innocent life at risk. I can't do that. You know I can't," she pleaded. She hadn't wanted to lead him on – she should never have let him kiss her at all.

"But you _want _to," he said slowly. His fingers hadn't stopped their inexorable slid up her stomach – only slowed somewhat. She had to make him understand before he got too far and she forgot her argument.

"I want to," she agreed. "But I _can't_. I _can't _risk pregnancy right now." His thumb brushed the underside of her breast, and she bit back a moan.

"You won't get pregnant."

"Huh?" Her eyes had fluttered closed at some point, and she had to make an effort to remember what they'd been talking about.

He chuckled. "You won't get pregnant. I went into Luca a couple days ago, and picked up some potions to prevent it." Gently he tugged her camisole over her head, baring her breasts. Her arms crossed across her chest even as he turned them, pushing her onto her back.

"You _planned _this?" She glared mutinously up at him.

"Not 'planned' so much as 'prepared for the inevitable'," he defended. "We've always been like this, Rikku. How long do you really think I could have you in my home, in my bed, in my arms without making love to you?"

He bent down to kiss the frown from her lips, and in just a few moments she was no longer thinking of anything but him.

---

Two days later, Rikku was watching him sort through mail in his office, helping him with his correspondence to save herself from dying of sheer boredom. He used a knife to neatly slice each letter open, scanned its contents briefly, then sorted them into piles – bills and correspondence – which he handed off to Rikku, along with his checkbook.

Except for one letter, which had come in a plain white envelope. That one he'd read and promptly stuck in a drawer in his desk. She'd asked about it, of course, but he'd informed her it was nothing she needed to be concerned with, and refused to discuss the issue.

But his face as he'd read the letter had told her all she needed to know. It _did _concern her, and not in a good way. Though he'd managed to keep his expression fairly neutral, she'd noticed his jaw clenching just a little, and he'd closed the drawer with slightly more force than necessary.

And he'd actually _locked _it. She hadn't found that out until much later, but that little tidbit had clinched it. He was hiding things from her again. He was treating her like a child again, pushing aside her right to know the truth in favor of his desire to keep it from her, to keep her sheltered like some sort of delicate, fragile thing.

But she wasn't. She wasn't delicate or fragile, and she definitely didn't want to live her life as a decoration on a shelf, protected and out of reach and ignored. She had a _right _to know what was going on. And if he wasn't going to tell her, well, then she'd just have to find out for herself.

And the letters kept on coming at a rate of a few a week, and he just read them as casually as if they'd been bills or bank statements, and tucked them into that drawer. As he began acting more and more suspicious – late-night commsphere calls, unnecessary trips into the city when he'd been the day before – she began getting more and more nervous. She'd had an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach for more than a week, and he hadn't done anything to alleviate any of her fears.

So finally, one night, she waited until she was certain he was asleep before ever so carefully slipping from his arms and out of the room. Then she crept down to his office, and picked the lock on his desk drawer. She dug around inside, drawing out a fistful of letters, and plopping down in his office chair to read them. It didn't take more than a few of them to get the gist of them – they were all from Xac.

While mostly filled with hateful racial slurs and the occasional demand for Rikku to stop being a coward and come out of hiding, they also contained several insinuations that he would be more than happy to rid Spira of Rikku's 'half-breed abomination of a cousin' should Rikku fail to meet his demands.

The icy knot of fear in her stomach expanded, prickling the hairs on the back of her neck. She had to get to Yuna. She had to get to Yuna _now._

---

Gippal woke up to find Rikku straddling his waist. A lamp emitted a soft glow across the room, but the clock at the bedside told him it was just after two in the morning.

"It's too early to be up," he murmured. "Come on, honey, let's go back to sleep."

"I've got to go to Besaid. I need to check on Yuna," she said, her voice low and urgent.

"It's not a good idea," he said. "We agreed we'd keep you here, out of the way, for a while."

"Your mistake," she said tightly. Too late he noticed the stack of letters she held in one hand. Cold metal kissed his bare chest, and he looked down to find her pressing the barrel of _his_ pistol against his chest. "I'm not asking. You can take me to Besaid right now or I can blow a very, very large hole in your chest."

She was angry – angrier than he'd ever seen her – and that made her unpredictable. He didn't believe that she'd actually hurt him, regardless of what she said, but if he didn't take her, he was a little afraid that she'd try to take his airship anyway, and he was fairly sure she didn't know how to fly it. She was shaking so hard anyway – with fear or anger, he wasn't sure – that he didn't quite know how she'd managed to _avoid _blowing a hold in his chest thus far.

"I'll take you," he said. "Just let me get dressed, okay? I'd also appreciate it if you'd refrain from shooting me. I've been shot too many times in my life already."

"Just shut up and get dressed." She hopped off the bed, looking and sounding thoroughly disgusted with him. "If you're not ready in five minutes, you can fly the ship naked for all I care." She slammed the door on her way out.

---

She was jittery the entire trip, pacing the length of the bridge and wringing her hands anxiously. Twice she'd left the gun she'd held on him – _his ­_gun – on the seat she'd vacated, and the second time she'd left it, he'd snatched it up and shoved it in his holster where it belonged. He knew she was afraid he'd turn back now that she no longer had a weapon on her, but she probably hadn't considered the fact that her obvious distress was the biggest weapon she possessed – he would take her all the way to Besaid just to prove to her that Yuna was all right if it would calm her down.

His casual suggestion that she head down to the cabin for a short nap was met with a dark glare.

"I'm taking you to Besaid," he said, hoping to reassure her. "I want you to see that they're okay, that nothing is going to happen to Yuna. That guy isn't going to get to her." He wanted to reassure her without saying too much – he didn't want to mess up and accidentally let slip any of the things he'd learned about the man. There was no sense in letting her worry about a man who was never going to get within a hundred feet of her ever again.

"When you see that Yuna's okay, you'll come back to Djose, won't you?" he asked as he docked the airship on the beach. "I just want to keep you safe, Rikku. It's rather hard to do when I don't know where you are."

She pursed her lips. "If Yuna's really okay, if that man hasn't…" she trailed off, unable to finish the thought. "If Yuna's okay, I'll go back to Djose," she said finally.

They traveled the winding roads in silence, only to be met by Yuna at the entrance to Besaid village. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement.

"How'd you two get here so fast?" She asked, hands on her hips, as surprised to see them as they were to see her. "Never mind," she said, "that Xac guy showed up. Come on, I'll take you to him."

"He did?" Rikku gasped.

"What happened?" Gippal demanded.

"I bashed him over the head with my summoner's staff," she said cheerfully. "I _told _you it was good for beating people over the head with. Tidus is sitting on him right now. He's got my staff, so if that guy wakes up, Tidus'll just hit him again."

They followed her to a little trail off the beaten path of the road, down to a little alcove where Tidus was seated firmly upon the back of a bound, unconscious man.

"How'd they get here so fast?" He asked.

"I had a bad feeling," Rikku said. "I made Gippal bring me here. It looks like it was a good thing, too." She shot a meaningful look at Gippal.

Tidus got up, poking the man in the back with Yuna's staff to make sure he was still unconscious. He didn't get so much as a groan.

"Saves me the trouble of hunting him down," Gippal said. "Tidus, you think you could help me drag this sack of garbage to my airship?"

"We sure as hell don't want him here. You're more than welcome to him," Tidus replied. Tidus grabbed the man's hands, and Gippal grabbed his feet, and together they carried him out of the village and down towards the beach.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Rikku whispered to Yuna. "I was…_so _worried." She wiped away a few helpless tears, unsure if she should be angry that Yuna had been placed in such danger or relieved that it was all over.

"I told you we were fine," Yuna said back. "I know you think of yourself as my protector, Rikku, and you've been very good to me, but I can actually take care of myself now. You shouldn't have to give up any more of your life to keep me safe."

"I never thought of it like that, Yunie," Rikku replied. "You were always my cousin, my best friend. I would have done anything to keep you safe."

"I'm grateful," Yuna said. "But now that I can take care of myself, don't you think it's time you let _yourself_ be happy?" She nodded toward Gippal, who had reappeared with Tidus at the entrance to the village, and were now engrossed in conversation.

"Yunie, I don't think…"

"I do," Yuna interrupted. "Rikku, you're everything to him. It's…it's so easy to see. I really do think you should give him another chance. He loves you very much. And he _is _your husband, after all."

It was the wrong thing to say. Rikku's face closed up immediately. "Yes," she said. "He is that."

"Rikku, you're staying here for a little while," Gippal said as he and Tidus approached. "I've got something I have to do, but I'll be back for you in a couple of hours. A day, at the most."

"What?" she spluttered. "Where are you going?"

"Zanarkand," he said.

"Zanarkand? Why Zanarkand? There's nothing in Zanarkand but _monkeys_."

"I know. That's where I'm taking our little friend. He's in the hold of my airship right now." He slid his gun out of his pockets, checking the magazine to make sure it was loaded. Satisfied, he re-holstered the weapon.

"What're you going to do with him in Zanarkand? The nearest police station is miles away from there. And why do _I_ have to stay _here_?" Rikku sounded completely and utterly puzzled.

"I'm not taking you with me because I'm not taking him to the police, Rikku," he said gently. "I'm taking him to Zanarkand to kill him."


	11. Chapter 11

He took his time making it back to his airship. He had thinking to do and decisions to make, but he still hadn't cleared up much of anything by the time he made it back. Of course, he was a little irritated that Rikku's gut instinct had been right, overriding his logic and reason. It was a good thing that she'd forced him out of bed at an ungodly hour after all. Still, now she had no reason to believe that he'd take care of her. He'd said he would take care of everything, but now she would always worry – had he _really_? He wasn't going to let her spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder or charging off in the dead of the night to meet some hypothetical foe. 

He walked up the ramp, headed straight for the bridge, and dropped down in the pilot's chair. The engine thrummed to life, and he programmed in a flight course for Zanarkand even as he reached for the intercom. 

"Rikku, on the bridge, _now_." The intercom channeled the command all over the ship, and less than a minute later the elevator dinged. 

She frowned as if displeased with him for discovering her scheme. Her hair was damp – she'd obviously swam across the lake to get to the beach without having to run into him and had promptly changed into some of his spare clothes as soon as she'd gotten on board. Likely she'd hoped he wouldn't find out she was on board until it was too late. 

"How'd you know?" she asked. 

"I know you," he said. "When have you _ever _stayed where I put you?" He swung the chair around, resting his elbows on his knees. "Come here," he said, "we've got to talk." 

Hesitantly she moved towards him. When she was close enough, he grabbed her hand and jerked her down into his arms, holding her tightly against him. 

"Do you _have _to kill him?" she asked softly. "He can go to jail, Gippal. He can go to jail for a long, long time. Maybe for the rest of his life." 

"It wouldn't be all that long, honey. He shot Keran and stalked you, but he didn't kill anyone. He won't get life in prison. Hell, he won't even get a fair trial," he said. The blank expression on her face told him he'd done a good job of shielding her from the situation. He slid his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, rubbing soothingly as he eased her head against his shoulder. 

"Rikku, there are still things you don't know about this man. This isn't the first time he's gotten himself in legal trouble. He's guilty of all sorts of things, but he's avoided jail time because he's exceedingly well-connected. His father is a very, very wealthy landowner, and his mother comes from a prominent merchant family in Luca. Throw in some politicians, judges, and other civil servants on both sides of his family, and a few of the higher-ups in Yevon backing him, and we've got an awful mess on our hands. They've hushed up his indiscretions before, they've bribed witnesses, they've stacked juries. They'll do it again. If he even _does _go to prison, I wouldn't count on it being for more than a couple of years." 

"But…but he _should _go to prison." She couldn't seem to wrap her mind around corruption in the new, peaceful Spira they'd helped establish. She'd honestly thought they'd gotten past that sort of thing. 

"If – and it's a _big _'if', honey – he _did _go to prison, do you honestly think he'll be repentant when he gets out? Do you think he'll understand or care that he was put there because of his own actions? I don't think he will. I think he'll blame you. I think, as soon as he got out, he'd try to finish what he started." He tried to soften the words by kissing her forehead, but she shuddered anyway. "Do you want to live the rest of your life waiting for that day, Rikku?" 

"No." Her fingers curved over his shoulder. "But I don't want you to have to kill him, either." 

"You can't _care _about him," he said incredulously. 

"I don't," she assured him, sliding off his lap. She turned away from him as she looked out the windows to the sandy beach below. "I don't care about him or what happens to him," she said. "I just…I think you've had to do enough killing in your life already. You shouldn't have to do anymore, especially not because of me." She slid her fingers across the window, tracing the path a dolphin wove through the surf out in the ocean. "Maybe I should just do it myself. I just want it to be over." 

He thought about it for a moment, thought about letting her take the matter in her own hands, and the havoc she would likely wreak because of it. Probably she'd make some sort of mistake, like untying the man, or she'd give him some sort of weapon to defend himself with. Honorable, but stupid. 

No, his fate had been decided when he'd failed to heed Gippal's warning. And it was Gippal's form of revenge he'd be getting. Gippal had seen enough of the world to know that it was foolish to expect an enemy – especially one who had already behaved dishonorably – to act with honor. The man was a criminal, without honor or principals, and would have to be treated accordingly. But Rikku wouldn't know that. 

"While I appreciate the gesture," he said, "I really think we'd be better off if you'd let me handle it. No offense, but I don't think you have it in you to shoot someone who doesn't pose an immediate threat to you, and I'm not about to let this bastard loose and hand him a weapon to satisfy your conscience." 

"What are you going to do to him, then?" 

"You sure you wanna know?" Not that he thought she had a rather high opinion of him anyway, but he was pretty sure she wasn't going to like his plan. 

"Yes. I'm sure." Her knuckles whitened as she tightened her grip on the windowsill. "I do have that right, don't I? To know what I've brought about?" 

He'd deal with her misdirected guilt later, he decided. 

"I'm going to take him to Zanarkand, I'm going to drag him inside the dome, and I'm going to shoot him in the head. If he's lucky, he'll be unconscious when I put a bullet in his brain. If not, well…he'll still be dead, so what's the difference, right?" There was no sense in sugar-coating his intentions. He stretched out his legs, telling himself that what she thought of him wouldn't matter. She didn't love him, anyway. Keeping her alive was the most important thing. Everything else had to be inconsequential. 

"I see." 

"I'm not giving him a _sporting chance_. I'm not going to let him fight for his life. I've got a copy of his warrant in my pocket that says he's wanted dead or alive, and I feel perfectly justified in sending him back to Kilika in a coffin." He patted his pocket, hearing the paper inside it crinkle. 

"Okay." 

"What do you mean, _okay_?" He was suspicious of her calm acceptance. 

"I mean okay," she said, turning to look over her shoulder at him. She tried for a reassuring smile, but achieved only a grimace. She twisted back towards the window, embarrassed at her lack of self-mastery. "I mean, I'd rather it had never come to this, but…if it's going to be him or me, it's _not_ going to be me." 

"That's my girl." His hand curved over her shoulder, warm and heavy and comforting. "Don't beat yourself up; at the rate he was going it was only a matter of time before someone called him out. It might as well be me. Think of him like Seymour. You'll be glad when he's gone. He's not a good man, Rikku." 

"What did he do? What else did he do that people might want him dead for?" She eased a little closer, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. 

"I don't…I really don't want you to worry about him, okay? Please, just trust me. I don't think you want to know anything more about him than you already do." If he got his way, she'd never have to know anything else about the man. Hopefully, in time, she'd forget the whole unfortunate episode. 

For a moment it looked like she might press the issue, but finally she shrugged. "Okay," she said softly. "Please, can we just get this over with? I think I might be sick if we have to put it off much longer." 

"First we'll need to go over a couple of things." His tone had quickly changed from sympathetic and comforting to hard and unyielding. He reclaimed the pilot's seat, fixing her with a forbidding stare. "You'll do everything I say without question. Do you understand?" 

"What?" she gasped. "But I –" 

"_Without question_, Rikku. Or I will tie you up and toss you right back to Yuna and Tidus, and you will sit and wait patiently on Besaid until I come back to get you. Do you understand?" 

She knew that expression – he'd made up his mind completely and he would ignore everything she said but the answer he wanted. 

"Fine," she snapped back, folding her arms across her chest. "What are my orders, captain?" 

"For now, don't go into the hold. Head to the cabin, if you like. The fridge was stocked recently. You could get yourself some food or take a nap. It'll take us a while to get to Zanarkand. Try to keep out of trouble." He swung around, preparing for takeoff now that she'd agreed to his rules. 

"Can I stay up here?" She made for the copilot's seat. 

"If you like." He was surprised that she'd want to. But then, maybe she just wanted companionship and she didn't really care who she got it from. 

She strapped herself into the seat as the ship smoothly departed Besaid. They sat in silence for a long while. She watched the ocean whiz by in a blur of blue waves with white crests, feeling unsettled and anxious, wondering if the feeling would ever fade. 

--- 

They landed a few hours later, and she paced nervously around the bridge, watching as he made his preparations to leave. He didn't so much as look at her; she _knew _he didn't intend to invite her along. Probably he'd order her to stay on the ship. 

"Take this," she said finally, as he finished shoving things in a small backpack. He looked down at the small accessory, puzzled. It was a thick, brightly colored band of orange, obviously meant to be worn as a bracelet. 

"What's it do?" He picked it up, looking at it curiously. 

"It's a charm bangle. It repels fiends," she said. "Zanarkand's still full of them. You can't afford to get taken by surprise. It won't ward off monkeys, but…" 

"Thanks," he said, fastening it around his wrist. "I completely forgot about the fiends." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. 

It was a natural inclination for him, expressing his affection for her. He didn't realize until he was drawing back that she might not appreciate it. He'd thought they'd grown a little closer since she'd been living with him – certainly they'd grown more intimate – but being intimate did not mean she felt anything for him at all. You didn't have to love someone to sleep with them. 

"Sorry," he said when he saw her shuttered expression. "I shouldn't have done that, I guess." 

"No, it's…okay." She touched her cheek absently. "Be careful." 

"I will." He double-checked the rounds in his gun, then slung his bag over his shoulder. "I want you to head to the cabin, all right?" 

Obediently she headed for the elevator and took it immediately to the cabin. But she didn't have any plans to stay there. It was lucky she kept a couple extra accessories on her – she had a feeling she was going to need her extra charm bangle. It would be awfully hard to follow at a discreet distance if she kept getting attacked by fiends. 

--- 

As Gippal levered his gun at Xac, he realized that he was going to have to teach Tidus to tie a better knot. The man looked so disgustingly self-satisfied that he'd slipped his bonds that Gippal considered shooting him right there in the hold. But blood was just _so _messy. 

"Let's go," Gippal said, motioning with the gun. "While you're at it, keep your hands where I can see them and don't make any sudden movements." 

"Okay, okay." He made a placating motion. "You're the one with the gun." Xac followed Gippal's directions down the ramp and onto the ground beneath the airship. 

"Keep moving. Towards the dome." Gippal prodded the man in the back with the barrel of the gun. He wanted to be well out of sight of the airship before he actually killed the man. He really didn't want Rikku to have to see it. 

"What, are you crazy? I can't go in there. There are fiends all over the place!" 

"_Keep moving_." Gippal cocked the gun. Xac stiffened, but continued forward reluctantly. 

Neither man noticed Rikku slip off the ship behind them, waiting until they'd gone a considerable distance before picking an unobtrusive path through the rubble. 

--- 

"That's far enough. Turn around," Gippal instructed, stopping in the middle of a large, open area. 

"So, what exactly do you plan to do?" Xac asked, sticking his hands in his pockets. He eyed Gippal's gun nervously. 

"I'm going to explain some things to you, the first of which is that this could have been avoided if you had taken my advice and stayed the hell away from my wife." Gippal strove to keep his voice calm and even. He wanted to shout at the man, to plant his fist in his face, but it would accomplish nothing and he would do well to remember it. He crammed his hand in his pocket, drawing out the crumpled piece of paper, tossing it to Xac, who caught it. 

"The hell is this?" Xac smoothed out the paper, scanning it briefly. 

"It's your warrant," Gippal said. "You're wanted, and they don't care how they get you." 

"You're crazy. You can't _kill _me. Do you _know _who my father is? He's probably getting that warrant recalled right now." Xac tossed the paper aside carelessly. 

"Your father has nothing to do with this. You have never been held accountable for your actions and I doubt you would be if I took you in. So today, I will be playing the part of judge, jury, and executioner." Gippal moved a few paces forward. 

"You can't _do_ that," Xac insisted. "My father –" 

"The law's on my side, here. I guarantee you that I will never set foot inside of a prison cell for killing you. You are a menace to society, and as long as I have a copy of that warrant, I will get off free and clear. Now, I wish I could say that I would trust your word if you were to say that you'd go away and leave us in peace, but I wouldn't. You've been spoiled your entire life. You're used to getting what you want and stepping on whoever you have to and having mommy and daddy clean up your messes." He spared a mocking look for the man. "That's going to end today." 

"Is it?" Xac sneered. "By the way, your _wife_ has been following us. She's there, just down the way." 

Rikku recognized the diversionary tactic for what it was, having used it countless times before, but Gippal actually turned to look at her. 

"Gippal, watch out!" she gasped. Xac dived for Gippal, knocking him backwards. The gun went flying, clattering to the ground towards a ledge. Thankful it hadn't gone over the edge, Rikku raced for it. She tripped, hit the ground hard enough to have the wind knocked out of her, but her fingers closed around the barrel and she stumbled to her feet. 

She snatched it up while the two men struggled. It struck her that it would have to be her, after all. She was going to have to kill him herself, and she was going to have to avoid shooting Gippal in the process. She only hoped she could manage to do it – she'd always been better with knives than she'd been with guns. 

Gippal was a better fighter than Xac, and he knew it. Xac had had no formal training, and he usually had other people to do his fighting for him. He had no form, no style. It wasn't all that hard to get some leverage and kick the man away from him. Xac fell away and struggled to his feet. 

"Now, Rikku!" 

The gun's report resounded in the dome. 

As soon as she saw Xac's shocked, incredulous expression, she knew she'd struck him. But she didn't want to see much more – Gippal would handle the rest, she was sure. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her arm still ached from the force of the recoil. 

There was a gurgling sound, then she heard a body hitting the ground. Shortly thereafter, she heard Gippal's heavy footsteps and the distinct rustling sound of fabric on concrete – Gippal was probably dragging the body away. Somewhere she couldn't see it. 

"Rikku." 

She jumped at the sound of his voice, and her eyes opened warily. Gippal looked grim – likely she'd have some explaining to do later on. He held out his hand. 

"I need the gun," he said. 

"Why?" she asked blankly, even as she dropped the gun onto his palm. 

"He's not dead," he said bluntly, walking away. "Head for the airship. I'll catch up." He disappeared around a column. 

A short walk and a short while later, she heard a gunshot. 

--- 

She was waiting for him outside the dome when he emerged. She hoped she looked composed – she felt a mess, torn between relief and tears. He didn't look upset at all, but when his arms finally closed around her, she realized he was trembling. 

"Are you okay, honey?" His lips touched her temple, coming away gritty with the dust that streaked her face. He wiped his mouth and kissed her again, wrapping her up so tightly she could hardly breathe. "God, I'm so glad you're okay. _Don't you ever do anything that stupid again, do you hear me_?" He shook her once, hard, then wrapped his arms around her again, squeezing her so tightly she found it difficult to breathe. 

She marveled at his ability to swing from one extreme to another in a space of seconds, alternating between worry and anger. But she'd never felt anything so reassuring as his strong arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder for a moment at let him hold her, let him mumble soothing endearments in her ear, let him stroke her back and kiss her hair. 

Finally she lifted her head, letting him brush her wild, flyaway hair back from her face. "Let's get out of here, okay?" 

"Yeah." He agreed. "Are you going to be okay? I can carry you." 

He would, too. She knew it. No matter that he had to be as tired as she was, he would carry her if she asked him to. 

"I'll be fine," she said. "My arm hurts a little, but my legs are fine. Let me just grab a couple of potions. Want some?" 

"I guess I could use one," he said, rubbing his jaw where Xac had managed to land a blow. 

She rummaged in her pouch for a couple of bottles and handed him one. He clinked his bottle to hers in a bizarre parody of a toast. She popped the stopper on her bottle and tipped the contents down her throat. The cool tingle was soothing – she could feel it slipping through her aching muscles, easing the pain. She flexed her arm experimentally. It didn't hurt. "I think it's better now." 

"Good." He slipped his arm around her waist anyway, leading her back towards the airship, then ushered her up the ramp into the cabin. 

"Bed," he said. 

"But –" 

"_Bed_," he insisted again. "_Now_. I'm gonna go take a shower and then run a bath for you, and when I come back I want to find you asleep in that bed." He pointed. She went, grumbling to herself as she undressed down to her undergarments, kicked off her shoes, and slid into the bed. The moment her head hit the pillow, she knew their little adventure had finally caught up with her. Her muscles relaxed, and her eyes closed. He was right; she needed a nap. But she didn't have to appreciate being ordered to bed, all the same. The bed depressed, and his fingers tunneled through her hair. He kissed her forehead. 

"Night, honey. No pouting." 

She 'hmph'ed as he headed towards the bathroom. A minute later she heard steady hum of water beating against the shower wall. She closed her eyes, burrowed into the covers, and slept. 

--- 

He brushed his fingers across her cheek. "Wake up, baby." 

Her eyes opened slowly, gazing up at him as if she wasn't quite sure of what she was seeing. He thrust his hands beneath the blankets, tugging her towards him, into his arms. He lifted her off the bed, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. His hair was still damp – her fingers slid right through the slick strands. 

He carried her into the bathroom, gently depositing her on her feet, testing the water temperature by kneeling near the tub and plunging his hand in. The water was covered with a thick layer of bubbles, probably a concession to her modesty as there was no door on the bathroom separating it from the cabin. 

"Go ahead and get in." He left the bathroom, leaving her alone with the tub of deliciously hot water. Quickly she shed her undergarments and climbed in, sinking into the tub. She sighed, leaning her head back and enjoying the silky feel of the water washing over her. Maybe she could even go back to sleep. She closed her eyes. 

Sometime later, the delicate scent of strawberries wafted to her nose. Her eyes opened, focusing on the strawberry on a fork held just inches away from her mouth. 

"Eat." Gippal was seated at the edge of the tub, holding a plate of food. 

"My, aren't we commanding today." She compressed her lips. 

He rolled his eye. "_Please _eat." He bobbed the strawberry temptingly. She plucked it off the fork and took a bite – perfectly ripe, juicy and sweet. It was gone too soon. She mourned the loss of the delicious fruit. 

He speared something else – a bit of chicken. She looked up at him curiously, but he seemed perfectly content to feed her bits of food off the plate until, slowly but surely, she'd devoured most of her dinner. 

"You know, you're actually a pretty good cook. I wouldn't have thought so, but you are," she said. 

"Gee, thanks." He poured a cup of water over her head, and she squealed indignantly. Then he was massaging shampoo through her hair as she glared up at him. 

"I can wash my own hair, you know," she said petulantly. 

"You're probably right." He dumped more water over her head and moved onto conditioner. She consoled herself with the fact that the bubbles hadn't diminished any noticeable amount. After rinsing her hair a final time, he laid a couple towels on the edge of the tub and set a spare button-up shirt on the counter. "It's nothing fancy, but it's clean and dry, and it'll keep you warm," he said. "When you're done, come find me, okay?" 

She nodded in response, then sank back for a few more minutes of relaxation. Slowly the water's warmth leeched away, and she abandoned the tub in favor of the fluffy towels. She toweled her hair dry as best she could, then slipped into the shirt he'd left her. It covered a respectable amount of skin. She didn't know why she was worried about that – she'd never cared much before whether or not she was wearing a respectable amount of clothing. Maybe she just didn't want _Gippal _to think of her poorly. 

She slunk down the stairs to the big open area below. He was seated at a table, staring broodingly into the distance. He held a slip of paper, which he kept smoothing absently over the table. A big metal urn sat in the middle of the table, its purpose a mystery to her. There were also two wineglasses, only one filled, and a half-empty bottle of wine. 

"Um," she said. "I'm out of the bath, now." She felt a little like a kid waiting on a parent's permission to go watch television or something. It was his airship, she was just a guest on it. Even if they _were _married. 

"Good. Come sit." He motioned to the chair across from him, pouring her a drink from the open bottle on the table. She sipped it hesitantly for a moment before a thought occurred to her. 

"What happened with Xac?" She hadn't thought about him at all after emerging from the dome. Not once. 

"I killed him." He didn't sugarcoat it. "You shot him in the chest. Painful, but not necessarily fatal, especially if he's any good at white magic. So I shot him in the head." He took a hearty drink from his glass. "Tomorrow I'll tell his parents where they can recover his body." 

She didn't flinch at the tone or the blunt confession. "Good," she said. "He deserved it." 

His harsh bark of laughter made her jump. "I killed him because he might've killed you. I've never done that before, not ever." He'd never, ever been in the grips of a rage so pure that he'd killed another man for an offense not committed against him. He'd killed before, many times. But only because it was his life on the line. Rikku was the only person in Spira he'd kill to protect. He downed the rest of his wine. 

"I'm grateful," she said. "I don't know what I would have done without you. Probably I'd be dead." 

He shoved a trembling hand through his hair, sighing. "I love you," he said finally. "That's why I did it. Because I love you. I'd kill anyone who tried to hurt you." 

Her lips trembled. "_You_ hurt me most of all," she said. Because physical pain was nothing, not compared to the mental pain, the emotional torment he'd put her through. That kind of pain didn't get better with white magic or potions. 

"I know," he said softly. "I know. That's why I'm giving you this." He slid the piece of paper across the table to her. 

She picked it up. "What is it?" 

"It's our marriage certificate. It's the only evidence there is in all of Spira that we're married," he said. 

She examined it carefully. It was dated and signed by Cid and Gippal's mother. Gippal's own childish signature was in the appropriate box, as well as her own sloppy scrawl – she hadn't really known her letters when she'd been married, much less how to write her name. 

"I don't understand," she said softly. 

He splayed his hands. "My mother's dead," he said. "That's half of the witnesses." He slid a lighter across to her. "I'm giving it to you. You can destroy it, and it'll be like it never happened." 

"But my dad knows – he's a witness. Yuna knows. Tidus knows." Lots of people knew, now, ever since his bold declaration in that Kilika bar. 

He shrugged. "There's no proof, there's no marriage. Without that, none of them will be able to prove conclusively whether we were married or not. You could…get married again." 

"What about you?" She inquired. 

He sighed. "I'll deny it," he said. "If anyone asks, I'll tell them it's not true. I'll tell them we were never married." 

"You'd _lie_?" 

"If it's what you want." He leaned back in his chair. He didn't look at her. He wasn't sure he _could _look at her without begging her not to do it. "If it's really what you want, I'll lie for you." 

Tears pricked her eyes as she fingered both the slip of paper and the lighter. He'd offered her the one thing she'd wanted from him – her freedom. He'd killed for her, he'd rescued her time and time again. He'd taken care of her. He _loved _her, and she knew it. She believed it now as fervently as she had disbelieved it before. For her happiness, he would sacrifice his pride and his honor. And she knew that even if he lied to everyone and said that they had never been married, even if _she _remarried, _he _never would. Because he loved her, and even if he lied for her, to him she would always be his wife, the only wife he would ever have. 

Her heart, long dormant in her chest, pulsed to life with a vicious beat. No, that wasn't entirely true. Perhaps it had always been alive, perhaps it had always been beating for him, only him, but hidden, buried away in a secret place where it could not be hurt any further. Only now had it broken free of its cold tomb to embrace him again as the only man she could ever love. And the only man that had the power hurt her irreparably. 

And that was why she flicked the lighter and set fire to the piece of paper. As the flames licked the curling paper, she set it into the metal urn and they both watched it burn to ash. When the last of the tiny embers died, she finally looked up at him…but he was staring at the ash in the bottom of the urn like every last one of his dreams had died with the flames. 


	12. Chapter 12

Gippal returned Rikku to her apartment in Kilika, said his awkward goodbyes, and made for Djose. There was no reason for her to return to Djose with him, now that Xac was dead. He wanted to mourn her, to mourn the marriage that he'd clung to with such hope for so many years. This time, he'd lost her for good. He'd been well and truly dumped.

But he didn't really regret it. She didn't love him. And if she didn't love him, she would never be happy with him. Setting her free was the only thing he could have done, the only gift he had to give her.

And he knew that he would never stop loving her. He'd always loved her. He had no idea if his love had been born from the knowledge that he was supposed to love her, or if he'd naturally grown to love her, but the fact remained that he'd loved her for as long as he could remember, and he couldn't imagine stopping.

And he couldn't help but mourn the life they could've had, the life they should've had. Because he would never have the big, happy family he'd wanted. Rikku would never give him a temple full of laughing, happy children. He'd never have children at all, because he only wanted Rikku's.

He wanted to take a bottle of vodka to bed and forget for just a little while, but he knew that come morning he'd just have a horrible hangover and a flood of memories. All he could do was resume his normal daily routine and bury himself in his work until the pain faded. He imagined it could take a while. Maybe years.

He collapsed onto his bed. Without Rikku there, it felt like miles stretched between one side and the other. It was too big, too lonely. Maybe he'd get a smaller one tomorrow. Anything to ward off the nightmares and memories that would surely plague him. Jerking the covers over his head, he flipped onto his stomach and squeezed his eyes shut until sheer exhaustion caught up with him.

Over the next few weeks, Gippal focused on working himself into an early grave. He woke up early and went to bed late and missed most meals. The Faction had never been better. His productivity soared, and his desk –which was usually a riot of paperwork arranged in no particular order – was tidy and organized for the first time since he'd taken over the temple. Everything ran promptly and efficiently, and projects were finished in record times. But that was usually because Gippal spent every waking moment in the office or in the workshop, cranking out repairs and custom orders at a feverish pace.

Most of his employees were surprised he hadn't yet keeled over, though they imagined it wouldn't be long until his inevitable breakdown. Gippal was starting to believe them. But he knew that if he stopped working, he'd start hurting again.

xxx

"You need to go after her."

Gippal ignored Keran, concentrating on replacing the timing belt on the hover he was busy repairing. He swiped his grimy fingers across his forehead, wiping away a thin sheen of sweat.

"Come on. Go after her." Keran tapped his fingers impatiently on the hood of the hover. Gippal got the distinct impression that Keran was resisting the urge to slam it on his head.

"Why should I do that?" He busied himself with wiping the grease from his fingers with an already dirty rag. Really all he succeeded in doing was pushing the grease around a little, but he figured it made him look nonchalant enough that he didn't care.

"Because you're miserable. Because she's miserable. Because she loves you. There's a plethora of reasons. Pick one."

"She doesn't love me. She was pretty clear about that." His voice was curt, wounded.

"Did she say she didn't love you?" Keran prodded.

"She burned our marriage certificate. That's pretty definite right there. I don't think she needed to say anything, really." God, it still hurt. And he couldn't make the hurt go away.

"But you love her."

"She's my wife, of course I love her." But she wasn't his wife anymore – she'd destroyed the evidence. She didn't want him.

Keran made an irritated sound in his throat. "God, you're dumber than a box of rocks. Do you do everything out of a sense of obligation?"

"What the hell are you rambling on about this time?" Gippal had thought they'd been talking about Rikku. He had no idea where the sudden switch had come from.

"Why does whether or not she's your wife have anything to do with loving her? Can't you just love Rikku for being Rikku? Do you love her only out of obligation? God, I don't blame her for leaving you if you only love her because you have to." Keran's jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. He was getting worked up – something that definitely wouldn't bode well for his still-healing chest wound and punctured lung. His voice rose angrily.

"You know, I gave her up because I figured you'd treat her right. I did the gentlemanly thing and backed off as soon as I found out she was married. But if you're going to sit here and sulk, I'm going to go take my chances with her. Who knows? Maybe she'll find me preferable to her cowardly ex-husband!"

Gippal was so enraged, he'd lashed out before he realized it. His fist slammed into Keran's jaw, forcing the shorter man to stumble back a few paces.

Keran rubbed his jaw, wincing at the soreness, then turned his head and spat a mouthful of blood. "Damn," he said. "I bit my tongue. You got some ice or something?"

The anger left Gippal on a rush, leaving him feeling lightheaded and strangely deflated.

"I, uh…yeah. Sorry. Hold on a minute." He retrieved a small sack of ice from the kitchen, then took a seat on a bench, sighing. "I'm sorry I hit you. I don't know what came over me," he said finally.

"I do." Keran pressed the ice to his jaw, grimacing. "You don't want to let anyone else have her. I think we proved that well enough. Now you've got to go after her."

"I can't," Gippal said.

"You won't," Keran corrected. "Maybe you're just not telling her what she wants to hear. Look, I know you're miserable, but I know she's miserable, too. She's acting just like you – sulky, irritable, generally dull and depressing to be around. That's not her. I want her to be happy, and she's not going to be happy without you. She just doesn't know it yet."

"What am I supposed to tell her? I gave her what she wanted. What else is there?"

Keran shrugged. "You let her go. Now bring her back. Look, I'll be honest with you. I'll provoke you again if I have to, but I'd really rather not get hit again if it's all the same to you. My girlfriend's going to wonder how I came by this bruise as it is," he said, touching the angry red mark on his jaw. It was already starting to go purple.

"Girlfriend? You have a girlfriend?"

"Yeah. One that is not Rikku," Keran assured Gippal hurriedly. "Her name's Remi. She was my nurse when I was in the hospital. Turns out she thinks gunshot wounds are sexy. Marks of honor and valor and all that stuff. So, are you gonna go get her or not?"

Gippal considered it for a moment. Keran had proved to him that, while he had resolved to let her go, he would never be able to tolerate the sight of her with another man. His stomach churned and his blood boiled at the thought. He'd have to find some way to win her back. All he had to lose was his pride – and with the way he'd been moping around lately, he had little enough of it left as it was.

And he was a little afraid that, when it came to her, he had no pride at all.

"Yeah." He scrubbed his face with his hands. "Yeah, I'm going."

"Good. I didn't really relish the thought of losing any teeth. I think you might've loosened a couple of 'em already." Keran worked his jaw gingerly.

"Sorry. Go ahead, I'll let you have a free swing at me." Gippal owed Keran that much. After all, he'd taken a bullet for Rikku.

"I'll save it for the next time you piss me off," Keran said. "I like the idea of owing you one. You know, if you give up again, screw letting you hit me. I'll just have to come back here and rough you up a little myself. That would be immensely more satisfying."

"Yeah, I'm sure." Gippal wasn't quite sure what he'd done to deserve a second chance – or at least the hope of one – but definitely wasn't going to waste it. "Don't worry. I've got no intention of giving up again."

xxx

"You're miserable."

"I'm not miserable," she countered immediately. "I'm just…"

"Miserable?" Keran supplied helpfully. She glared.

"Recovering. I had a traumatic experience, you know." It sounded phony even to her.

"I remember," he replied dryly. "I got shot. It'd be hard to forget."

She winced. "I'm so sorry about that. I never wanted you to get hurt." She wrapped her hands around her cup of tea and bent her head, feeling self-centered and churlish. She owed Keran a great deal.

"I know that," he sighed. "But you can't keep sitting around looking like someone stole your puppy. You're so terrified of getting hurt that you're afraid to take a chance on someone who really loves you, and now you're both miserable. Sometimes, if you want to be happy, you've just got to jump in with both feet and give it your all. And it might not work out – but you'll regret it forever if you don't give it a chance. And forever is a really, really long time."

She tried to speak – tried to deny it – but her throat closed off. Tears choked her, and she swallowed them back desperately.

"I've got to…to stir the soup," she managed huskily, pushing back her chair and retreating to the kitchen.

"Coward," he called after her. "You've got to face the music sometime. You can't stay holed up in here forever."

"Watch me," she muttered, scrubbing her face with a dish towel. She was alarmed by the sudden onset of tears. She'd thought that she'd gotten over the crying stage.

"See," Keran remarked thoughtfully. "You're not over him. You're not going to be over him. You can't just will yourself to stop loving someone," he said, sighing. "I wish you wouldn't do this to yourself. You're trying so hard to convince yourself you'll be happy without him, but deep down, I think you know you won't. It's okay to forgive people when they hurt you. It doesn't make you weak. It doesn't mean they'll hurt you again."

She turned her back on him, gripping the countertop desperately, stifling a sob. "I don't…I can't talk about it." She wasn't over him, she knew she wasn't over him. She didn't want to bring the pain to the surface again, not when she'd been doing such a good job of burying it. "Please, Keran. I can't do this."

"Okay," he sighed. "I won't say anything else. I didn't mean to upset you so badly." He set his palm on top of her head, ruffling her hair affectionately, trying to defuse her panic. "Smells good," he said, leaning over the stove to look down into the pot of soup.

Someone knocked on the door, and Rikku jumped in surprise.

"I invited someone over for dinner, if that's okay," Keran said. "Sorry, I forgot to tell you."

"It's fine." She assumed it was Remi, Keran's new girlfriend. "There's plenty to go around. Could you get the door? The soup's almost ready, I'll start dishing it out."

She rummaged through the cabinets for some bowls and a ladle as Keran headed for the door.

Keran opened the door, quietly ushering Gippal into the apartment. "She's in the kitchen," he said softly. "Follow my lead or you could end up wearing hot soup."

Gippal watched Keran approach Rikku, who was bent over the pot of soup, carefully ladling it into the bowls she'd laid out.

"How's it going?" He asked.

"Almost done," she said, picking up two of the bowls and turning towards the kitchen table. "I'll just get the…" Her mouth fell open when she saw Gippal, standing quietly near the table, one hand resting on the back of a chair. Her grip on the bowls relaxed, but Keran slid his hands beneath hers, neatly catching the two bowls before they could slip from her grasp and decorate the kitchen floor.

"I'll take these," he said, setting them carefully on the table. "Don't hate me too much, okay? It's for your own good." He kissed her cheek briefly, earning a glare from Gippal. "I'm gonna get out of the danger zone. Gimme a call sometime, when you're settled."

"Settled?" She queried. "What do you mean, settled?"

Keran only waved, closing the door behind him with a snap.

"He means that you should give him a call when you're fully settled back at Djose," Gippal said softly.

She swallowed hard. "I'm not…I'm not going back to Djose."

"No?" He rounded the table slowly, watching her back away. "You made a promise to me. You said you'd come back to Djose. Do you remember?"

"Xac's dead. No one's trying to kill me anymore. It wasn't necessary to go back to Djose." Her fingers caught the dish towel, wringing it with nervous hands.

"It is necessary." He looked so serious – it wasn't in his nature to be so solemn, and it worried her. "I want you to come back, Rikku."

"Why?" Her back touched the wall, and he kept coming, but she didn't try to move away. She wanted to hear what he had to say. He flattened one palm against the wall by her shoulder, but didn't pin her in, giving her an avenue of escape if she so chose. His fingers touched her shoulder, sliding around to cradle the back of her neck gently.

"I miss you," he said. "When you were at Djose, I was the happiest I've been for a long time. I thought that, if it was what you wanted, I could just let you go and try not to think about you, but I can't. I'm not that strong, Rikku."

His thumb stroked her neck soothingly. Her heart thudded frantically against her chest as she watched him bend towards her. She knew she shouldn't let him kiss her – she'd spent months telling him to keep away, how would it look if she gave in now? But…she wanted that kiss so much.

His lips touched hers, soft and warm and almost hesitant. He made no demands, took no further liberties. But her breath caught and her lips parted under his just the same. He allowed a brief kiss, then drew back slowly.

"I don't want to lose you again. I'll make you happy, Rikku." He kissed her once more, heartened that she didn't pull away, didn't resist his gentle embrace. She was staring at him with a mixture of awe and shock, but there was no anger in her eyes, no doubt, no fear – just a quiet astonishment.

"I'm greedy. I want everything. I want a home and a family." His fingers slid into the hair at the nape of her neck.

"You'll…you could find someone else, I'm sure." The words tasted bitter to her, as sour as a lemon on her tongue.

"I don't want anyone else. I love you." His forehead touched hers and he closed his eye, drawing in an unsteady breath. "You're my family. You'll be my family forever. No matter what, I'll always come for you. I'll always protect you. I'll always love you."

It sounded like it hurt him to say it, like he hurt because he knew he wouldn't be getting the words back. It cost him his pride, but she knew he was speaking from the heart even knowing she'd reject him.

"It's your choice," he said. "But I'm miserable without you, Rikku. You trusted me to keep you safe; trust me with your heart this time. Come back to Djose. Come home. Please." He shouldered away from the wall, moving a few paces away, his expression inscrutable. He rubbed the tense muscles in his neck. "I'll leave. I'm sorry for interrupting your dinner." He paused with one foot out the door, his gaze briefly flickering back towards where she stood, still and quiet, leaning against the wall.

"You know where to find me," he said. "I'm only a commsphere call or a ferry trip away."

And then he was gone, and Rikku was left with two hot bowls of soup and an empty apartment.

Come home, he'd said. God, it sounded so good. And she hadn't had a home in so long. She'd thought she'd conquered the desire to grow roots, for a place that was hers forever, for a place where she would live and raise a family. For someone who belonged to her, someone she could belong to in turn. For Gippal. Apparently she hadn't done as good a job as she'd imagined.

She sat down at the table with a heavy sigh, only to find she wasn't very hungry anymore.

xxx

Short of throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her back to Djose – her protests be damned – there was nothing more he could do or say to make his feelings any clearer.

And although Keran had been convinced that she loved him, she didn't seem in too much of a hurry to come after him. He'd been back at Djose for a week and hadn't seen or heard from her. And Rikku wasn't the sort to put anything off. If she wanted to be with him, she would be.

But he wouldn't be so easily dissuaded from planning his next attempt at conquering Rikku's stubborn streak. If he couldn't lure her back into his arms with love alone, he figured persistence would be the key to her heart – maybe he could annoy her into submission. Maybe, if he followed her around with flowers and candy and thoughtful little trinkets, she'd get frustrated and give him a pity date.

He'd been a fool before, allowing himself to be so drawn into his misery that he'd missed the bigger picture – he loved her, but he'd never really given her his whole heart. He'd been too easily discouraged, too prepared for her rejection to try to understand why she'd rejected him, to try to fix the broken parts of their relationship. And it was his responsibility to fix what he'd broken, because even if she loved him, she was too afraid of him to risk her heart again.

But maybe this time, with a lot of patience and consideration, he could convince her that if she took a chance on him he'd never make her regret it.

He'd planned to give her some time to herself – fearing that if he pushed her too far too fast she'd turn tail and run – as well as take some time to work out his plan of attack. He had a feeling that courting Rikku was going to be uncomfortably like a game of chess, and Rikku had always been an excellent strategist. He'd have to have a couple of tricks up his sleeve if he wanted to get anywhere with her.

But then one morning, after an intense brainstorming session with Keran, he convinced himself he'd finally snapped. He woke up to long blonde hair spread across his pillow like spun gold. He touched it hesitantly, sliding his fingers into the cool strands, then to the warm, bare shoulder he glimpsed beneath it. He drew back almost immediately as if the feel of her skin had burned him.

"Oh god." He ran a hand through his hair. "This is it. I've finally lost it."

Then, realizing that maybe being insane had its benefits, he slid his palm beneath the covers to discover if his insanity had managed to conjure up any more warm, naked skin. His fingers slid over her flat stomach, up her rib cage, curving over the smooth, firm swell of her breast.

She batted his hand away. "I'm trying to sleep," she mumbled, turning her face into the pillow. He jerked back, shocked. Did insanity-induced visions talk back? He had to find out. He reached out and shook her awake.

"Would you cut that out?" She complained, glaring up at him as he dragged her out of sleep.

"Are you real?"

"What?" She scowled. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you real? Are you really here? Is this a dream?" He shook her a little, looking positively panicked. She decided to assuage his fears, regardless of how rudely he'd awoken her.

"Yeah, I'm real. What sort of a question is that?"

He collapsed beside her, his breath whooshing out on a sigh. "Thank god," he said. "I thought I was going crazy." When he'd recovered sufficiently, he looked at her curiously again. "What are you doing here, anyway?" Most especially naked, and in his bed.

"I'm moving in." The stubborn set of her jaw dared him to argue with her.

"You're…moving in?" It didn't make sense.

"We're married, aren't we?" She tugged the covers up a little higher, raking her nails across the fabric rhythmically. "Married people usually live together."

"Are we married, then?" He still didn't understand. "I seem to remember you destroyed our marriage certificate." He leaned over her, tugging her lower lip out from between her teeth, afraid she might actually draw blood with how hard she was worrying it.

She winced. "I shouldn't have done that," she said. "I'm sorry. I know it hurt you."

His fingers slid lightly over her cheek, down her throat, caressed her shoulder. "It's okay," he said. "I understood why you did it." He slid an arm beneath her shoulders, resting his forehead against hers.

"The truth is, I was afraid," she said. "I told myself you didn't matter, that I didn't need or want any of the things you could give me, but it was a lie. I did need them, I did want them, but I was afraid of them. I thought it would be easier if I never had them, because one day I might have to give them up. Most everything I've ever loved hasn't lasted. My sudran. Home. You. I didn't want it to happen all over again." She tried to blink back her tears, but a few escaped anyway. He brushed them away gently.

"I love you," she said. "I'm sorry I let you think I didn't. And I'm sorry I hurt you. I hurt both of us and wasted a lot of time. We can – if you want to, I mean – get married again."

It was what he'd been waiting to hear, what he'd been working towards for so many months. Something inside him that had been anxious and tense and hurting for so long finally relaxed, at peace at last. If she'd made her choice freely – if she'd come to Djose with no further urging from him, then she wasn't likely to change her mind. They could afford to take their time and rediscover their relationship. He could give her the wedding celebration she deserved, the one she'd been denied before.

"Not right away," he said. "But soon. We should take some time to plan it out. Do it right. You didn't get a big, fancy wedding the first time. This time should be different. Yuna can help, right? She seems like she'd know a lot about that sort of stuff."

"Yeah, she does." She smiled. "I think she'd like that. I think I'd like that."

"I'm glad," he said. "I'm glad you came back. I would've spent as long as necessary to convince you to come back, but I'm glad you came back on your own. I swear I'll make you happy, Rikku."

"You already do." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get everything figured out."

There was a brief knock on the door just seconds before it flew open and a harried-looking worker burst in. But with the sheet up to her chin, Gippal wasn't particularly worried about the intruder getting an eyeful of his wife.

"Hey, boss, a bunch of junk got – oh, um. Sorry. I didn't know you had company." Blushing, the man did a quick about-face.

"It's just Rikku, Danto," Gippal said. "She'll be moving back in, so you might want to get used to knocking and actually waiting for someone to answer."

"Right." Danto cleared his throat and averted his eyes, obviously uncomfortable. "Well, at least that explains all the junk in the lobby."

"Junk!" Rikku gasped, affronted. "That's my stuff. It's not junk."

Danto looked unconvinced. "Well, it's all stacked in the lobby. Man, there's a lot of it. You want to start construction on a new wing, boss?"

"There's that much of it?" Gippal asked incredulously.

"Well, yeah," Rikku said. "Why do you think it took me so long to get here? I had to pack up everything I own and get rid of my apartment."

So she truly had put all her faith in him, Gippal realized. She'd uprooted herself to come to him.

"We'll draw up some blueprints today," he said. "I have a feeling we'll need the extra space once we get around to having a couple of kids."

Rikku pursed her lips. "I'll get rid of some stuff," she said. "There's no need to go rebuilding your home just so I can fit all of my stuff in. It's not a big deal, really. I don't mind."

"Our home, Rikku," he said. "It's our home. Your junk belongs here just as much as my stuff does."

"How come my stuff is junk and your junk is stuff?" Rikku grumbled.

"I'll just head on out to the workshop, then, and let some of the men know we'll need to start ordering supplies for the addition," Danto said, unnerved by the open affection between Gippal and Rikku. He clearly had no desire to stick around and witness any potential loving scenes. "I'll, uh, send one of the girls up with breakfast in about thirty minutes, if that's good. Welcome home, Rikku."

"Thanks." Rikku closed her eyes, trying – and failing – to stifle a silly grin. It had been a long time since she'd been so happy, so carefree. It had taken that little greeting to realize that it was more than a home-coming, it was a Home-coming. Because Home wasn't a place you built with steel or rock walls, Home was the people you shared that home with, the people you shared your life with. And Gippal always had been and always would be her Home.

"What's up? You're grinning like an idiot." Gippal realized it was somewhat hypocritical of him to say it; he was pretty sure he looked just as ridiculously elated as she did.

"Nothing. Nothing." She brushed a kiss along his cheek, breathing in the faint scent of soap that still clung to his skin from last night's shower. "It's just so good to be Home."


End file.
